


The Brave at Heart

by reachfortheschuyler



Series: The Brave at Heart [1]
Category: Once Upon a Time (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Harry Potter Setting, Angst, Chamber of Secrets, Drama, F/M, Fluff, Minor Prince Charming | David Nolan/Snow White | Mary Margaret Blanchard, Past Daniel Colter/Evil Queen | Regina Mills, Prisoner of Azkaban, Regal Believer, smut will come later
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-08-02
Updated: 2018-11-01
Packaged: 2018-12-10 01:44:42
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 13
Words: 88,163
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11681415
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/reachfortheschuyler/pseuds/reachfortheschuyler
Summary: Hogwarts AU. Professor Regina Mills thought her biggest problem this year would be keeping track of misfit Henry Colter. But when a person from her past reappears at Hogwarts, ghosts of her dark and painful history with You Know Who come back to light. Now faced with a monster no one has seen, Regina must prove she is not who she once was, and that she is a true Gryffindor at heart.





	1. Chapter 1

Night is falling on Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry and for the first time since May, the castle is alight with noise and excitement as students gather for the opening feast of the school year. Professor Regina Mills settles into her seat at the head table as all the young wizards and witches file into the hall, laughing and chattering with friends long lost to the lazy days of summer.

She sends a few smiles to students who wave at her as they take their seats, proudly filling up the Gryffindor table. The front most place settings are left empty for the new first years yet to be sorted in their houses, but that doesn’t stop her rambunctious pupils from elbowing each other to get seats closest to the head table. She nods at Elsa Frost, the new Head Girl and former Gryffindor Prefect, as the fresh seventh year takes her place nearest where the first years will soon sit. Miss Frost is diligent, intelligent, and quick- an obvious choice for Head Girl (and how proud had Regina been when Merlin told her a student from her own house would be chosen for such an honor).

“And another school year begins,” a sweet voice sighs. Regina turns just as Professor Mary Margaret Nolan takes the place beside her at the long table.

“And so it does. We’re going to need a lot of alcohol with this seventh year class,” Regina mutters, reaching for her goblet of wine.

“Oh, I know,” Mary Margaret agrees, scooting her chair in. “It’ll be a miracle if any of them pass their NEWTs.”

“Do you have many students in your NEWT class this year? I only have seven in mine.”

“I have eleven which is more than I was expecting,” Mary Margaret replies. “David has twenty-three, but he accepts students with ‘Meets Expectations’ on their OWLs, so I guess he’d naturally have more.”

“Maybe I should change my pre-requisite from ‘Outstanding’ to ‘Exceeds Expectations,’” Regina muses. “Might increase my enrollment a little bit.”

“I did that last year and only got a few more students. Of course, Muggle Studies isn’t exactly required for a lot of careers, so that could be why.”

“What _do_ you teach in a NEWT-level Muggle Studies class?” Regina asks. “I’ve always wondered.”

“Oh, stuff like how electricity works, muggle medicine, basic muggle philosophies,” Mary Margaret lists off. “It can be quite difficult for students who come from purely wizarding families.”

Regina hums her understanding and takes another sip of wine. Personally, she’s always found Muggle Studies to be, well, a tad boring. Not as boring as History of Magic (bless Professor French’s heart), but certainly not as exciting as Charms or Transfiguration or, of course, Potions.

“Did you hear about what happened to poor Professor Midas?” Mary Margaret gasps suddenly and a bit too dramatically.

“No, I didn’t. I haven’t seen her yet.”

“That’s because she’s not returning,” Mary Margaret explains, lowering her voice. “She had a terrible accident on the pitch last week. A bludger knocked her right in the head. Poor thing can barely remember her own name.”

“Oh, that’s awful,” Regina sympathizes. She’s always liked Professor Midas. The quidditch madam is sharp and diligent and rarely takes shit from anyone- qualities Regina both admires and emulates.

“I know. It’s a shame, isn’t it?” Mary Margaret sighs, shaking her head.

Regina resists the urge to roll her eyes. Mary Margaret is a sweet person, but it’s no secret she doesn’t like Kathryn Midas. And it’s no secret Kathryn Midas has had a crush on Mary Margaret’s husband David for years, so as devastated as Mary Margaret may seem, Regina suspects she’s not actually all that heartbroken over the quidditch master’s departure.

“Any word on who’s filling her role?” Regina asks.

“Not that I’ve heard, but it’s only been a week. Can’t expect Merlin to have found someone so quickly.”

“I’ve learned not to expect anything from Merlin. Mostly because everything he does is unexpected,” Regina replies, jumping when something fuzzy brushes against her arm. “Oh, Dumbledore’s beard, Anton! You scared me half to death!”

The large and hairy man laughs jovially as he sits down next to her, robust stomach pressing into the table’s edge. “Sorry ‘bout that, Professor Mills. Didn’t mean to make ya jump.” Anton leans forward a bit to smile at Mary Margaret. “Professor Nolan, how are ya?”

“Wonderful, Anton, how are you?” Mary Margaret answers with a smile.

“Been better if I’m being honest. Had a heck of a time gettin’ the students offa the train.”

“Oh?”

“Well, you know Violet Kaylor, o’ course.”

Regina nods needlessly. She does indeed know Violet Kaylor. The young girl had made quite the impression last year after being sorted into Gryffindor- not only was she extremely bright, but she helped reveal the evil intentions of former professor Isaac Heller who had wanted to steal the Sorcerer’s Stone in a misguided attempt to revive… You Know Who. She's one of the most promising Gryffindors Regina's ever had the pleasure of teaching. “I can't imagine Miss Kaylor causing trouble on the train,” Regina says in surprise.

“Oh, she was putting up quite a fuss,” Anton explains. “Saying somethin’ ‘bout how Henry ‘n Roland didn't get on the train ‘n that somethin’ musta happened to ‘em. They're probably just upta trouble again.” The small giant chuckles hartily. “You know how much trouble those two can get upta, ‘o course, Professor Mills.”

Regina sighs and nods. Henry Colter and Roland Knight are two of her more headache-inducing students. They could be brilliant students if they put as much effort into their studies as they put into their mischief making. Somehow, they managed to rope Violet Kaylor into their group and it always seems to be the three of them getting into some kind of trouble together. Or rather, Henry and Roland get into some kind of trouble and Violet has to get them out of it. And even still, Regina herself has had to step in to make sure they don’t do anything that could permanently harm themselves or someone else. They often don’t mean to cause problems, but given Henry’s… unique circumstances, he’s more often than not pulled into things beyond his control.

Still, given their track record, Regina would bet ten galleons that Mr. Colter and Mr. Knight are up to absolutely no good at the moment, much to Miss Kaylor’s annoyance.

“And what kind of trouble do you think they're getting into presently?” Regina asks Anton suspiciously.

The giant coughs as he takes a drink. “I dunno, professor. Could be anythin’ wit those two,” he answers innocently.

Regina narrows her eyes. More often than not, Anton is privy to the mischief making of Colter, Knight, and Kaylor and occasionally has a hand in their troublemaking as well. But she doesn't get to question him further on the matter because just then, the double doors at the back of the hall open and Professor French comes striding in with a gaggle of nervous first years following behind her.

“I hope you get a good group,” Mary Margaret whispers as the Great Hall grows quiet. “David has been fretting that he’ll hardly get any new students. Hufflepuff’s been having a bit of a drought lately.”

Regina nods once, eyes fixed on the Sorting Hat resting on a stool at the front of the hall. David has a tendency to air on the side of the dramatic. And yes, there have been fewer Hufflepuffs in recent years, but every house goes through a dry spell. Personally, she’s amazed her own house hasn’t dropped in numbers lately, considering… well, considering she’s the head of it.

The first years congregate in front of the Sorting Hat, looking at Professor French, around the hall, at Merlin studying them approvingly from his grand chair. It’s silent, only the shuffling of feet and occasional cough break the quiet as everyone waits. And then:

_“Oh, you may not think I’m pretty_

_But don’t judge on what you see_

_I’ll eat myself if you can find_

_A smarter hat than me._

_You can keep your bowlers black_

_Your top hats sleek and tall_

_For I’m the Hogwarts Sorting Hat_

_And I can cap them all.”_

Regina smirks as several first years jump, startled by the song ringing loudly from the mouth of the battered, patched hat before them. Muggle-borns, no doubt, unaccustomed to the many strange sights they’re about to encounter.

Anton taps his foot jovially beside her, bobbing his head in time with the Sorting Hat’s singing. Mary Margaret smiles pleasantly at the first years, her fingers tapping her knee in the same rhythm as Anton.

All the students sitting at the four long tables seem to also be enjoying the annual song, erupting into cheers when the Hat sings the accolades of their respective house. Ravenclaw shouts a chant with synchronized clapping, Slytherin stomps their feet, and Hufflepuff starts the wave. When the Hat begins its verse about Gryffindor, Regina’s students create quite a ruckus- banging on the table, clanging plates and bowls together, hooting and whooping. Several of them look at her as they cheer and she tries to smile in return, but her lips are tight.

The Hat waxes eloquent about being brave, courageous, and valiant, and Regina holds her breath. She’s none of those things. She’s never been any of those things and yet, here she sits, head of Gryffindor House. What was Merlin thinking, putting her in such a position? She can’t… she can’t lead these students who _are_ brave and courageous and valiant. She’ll let them down, she’ll mislead them, she’ll fail them, she’ll-

A hand on her shoulder makes her jump, and she whips around at the unexpected touch, frowning immediately when she sees who stands behind her.

“Professor Gold,” she says lowly, coolly. “Is there something I can help you with?”

The old man looks surprisingly happy. Giddy, almost. “Oh, yes, Professor Mills, there is indeed something you can help me with,” he answers with a nauseating smile. “I believe I’ve found some of your… belongings.”

Regina raises an eyebrow, unimpressed. “Going through my drawers again, Gold? What, did Professor French finally kick you out of her bed?”

He ignores her barb and practically giggles. “If I recall correctly, the power to expel students is left up to their Head of House, is it not?”

Regina narrows her eyes. “Yes… it is.”

“Well, then come along, professor. It’s time you put that authority to good use,” Gold says, barely waiting for Regina to stand before he’s turning and walking back the way he came.

Regina rises slowly, eyes still narrowed as she drops her napkin onto the table. She glances up at her students, most of whom are still engrossed in the Sorting, but she catches the eye of one Violet Kaylor who is watching her with rapt, almost panicked, attention. Regina breathes out slowly as she turns to follow Professor Gold out of the hall. Anton had said Miss Kaylor had been fretting that Mr. Colter and Mr. Knight hadn’t gotten on the train. Dumbledore help her, she can only imagine what trouble Gold’s caught them doing now.

* * *

 

“A flying _car?!”_ Regina cries as they descend their way to the dungeons and Gold’s office.

“A Ford Anglia to be exact,” Gold confirms cheerfully, half skipping down the stairs.

Regina takes a deep breath, knuckles white as she grips the banister. “And they were seen?” she sighs.

“Oh, yes. By six or seven muggles _at least.”_

Regina scowls. “Considering this is a pretty dire situation, you could at least _try_ to not appear so pleased about it,” she snaps.

“But I’ve been waiting for this moment for over a year,” Gold replies as they reach the bottom of the stairs. “I only wish I had the honor of expelling Colter and Knight myself.”

Regina purses her lips as she follows Gold to his office door, resisting the urge to light more torches on the walls. It’s so… dreary down here. Dreary and wet and depressing. As a student, she always hated the walk to Potions class for the sole reason of having to walk through the dungeons. How anyone can get any work done down here- Professor Gold or otherwise- is beyond her.

It’s much the same in Gold’s office when they enter- very little light, very little windows, and very little warmth to be found. The only difference between the corridor and Gold’s office is the palpable feel of anxiety strangling the air inside the cluttered room. Anxiety that is visibly radiating off the two young boys sitting in the chairs before Gold’s desk.

Henry Colter stands immediately when his professors enter, probably a million and one explanations and excuses on the tip of his tongue. He’s grown over the summer, Regina notes. His robes are a size too small and his brown hair is an inch too long, but it hides his scar almost completely and she’d bet he’s quite pleased with that. He’s lost weight and a lot of it, no doubt a side effect of living with his horrible aunt and uncle. Still, he looks so much like his father. So, so much…

Henry opens his mouth, but Regina raises an eyebrow and not a word passes his lips.

Regina reaches into her robes and pulls out her wand, ignoring the flinch of both boys as she lights a fire in the severely neglected fireplace behind Gold’s desk. She looks at Henry and then down to Roland who has yet to move a muscle. He’s grown over the summer too, but not nearly as much and not nearly enough. Poor thing. He’s young. Over a year and a half younger than the other students in his class and it shows. He’s short and skinny and still has that cherubic quality in his cheeks that screams youth. He shouldn’t even be at Hogwarts yet, but Merlin had insisted he start early and not for the first time, Regina wonders if that was the right decision.

She looks back at Henry. “Sit,” she orders shortly. Her eyes flicker back and forth between them. “Explain,” she commands, hands going to her hips.

“Professor Mills, it’s not our fault,” Henry begins immediately. “We were at King’s Cross and the barrier to the platform was closed somehow so we couldn’t get through -”

“Yeah, we ran right into the wall!” Roland interjects.

“And we missed the train,” Henry continues. “We didn’t really know what to do, but then Roland remembered his foster mum had driven her car to the station the day before last when she took a train to East Horseley for the week and so we thought we could just fly ourselves to school because the car has an invisibility feature and so we figured there’d be no harm in it, but halfway in, the invisibility charm malfunctioned and… well, I guess you’ve seen the papers by now. But we didn’t mean to have muggles see us and we certainly didn’t mean to hurt the Whomping Willow. If anything, that dumb tree hurt _us_ more than we hurt it, and-”

“Enough,” Regina interrupts, holding up a hand. She levels Henry with a raised eyebrow and he shrinks into his robes, swallowing heavily. She shouldn’t be surprised. She really, really shouldn’t. Colter and Knight getting into trouble and having several thousand excuses as to why they didn’t mean it? Nothing new there. But what they’ve done is inexcusable this time. It’s beyond just simply breaking Hogwarts rules. They’ve violated international wizard law. Exposed the wizarding world to muggles. Stolen magical property. Driven enchanted machinery without proper licenses. Gold, as much as it pains her to admit, is right. What they’ve done is grounds for expulsion.

Regina glances at the impish little man smiling giddily behind her. His thrill makes her sick. He may hate Colter and Knight for whatever twisted reason, but Regina certainly does not and she certainly does not find joy in their misfortune. And he does not have authority in this situation. She does.

Regina exhales slowly through her nose. “ _Why_ did you not think to send us an owl?” she asks sternly, looking at Henry. “I do believe _you_ have an owl, Mr. Colter?”

Henry blinks once and then deflates. “I- I didn’t think-”

“That is quite obvious,” Regina interrupts. She turns to Roland. “And you, Mr. Knight, surely there was _someone_ you could have contacted to sort this out, instead of stealing your foster mother’s _car.”_

Roland shakes his head, moppy brown curls flying. “No, ma’am. Ms. Henning is away, as Henry said. And I haven’t seen Mrs. Smirt- my caseworker- in weeks. I… I didn’t know what else to do.”

Regina closes her eyes for a moment, then opens them. “I have never been more disappointed in a pair of students before,” she says in a dangerously calm voice. “And to think that two Gryffindors- two of _my_ students- have done something so horrendous- I just cannot even articulate how disappointed I am in the both of you. You should be ashamed of yourselves.”

Henry hangs his head, guilt and defeat plain on his face. Roland sighs heavily and stands, shoulders slumped. “I’ll go get our bags,” he mutters, turning for the door.

“Whatever for?” Regina snaps.

Roland turns back, confused. “Well, you’re expelling us, aren’t you?” he asks.

Regina exhales shortly. “Not today, Mr. Knight,” she says.

Roland and Henry both gape at her and then at each other, eyes wide, not believing their luck. Gold, on the other hand, looks like Christmas has just been cancelled. Regina ignores him. “You will not be expelled, but I must emphasize the seriousness of what you have done. Both of your respective guardians will be receiving letters about this and you will each serve a month’s detention with me. And I will warn you now- if you put one more _toe_ out of line, I will have no choice but to expel you. Understood?”

Both boys nod vigorously. “Yes, Professor Mills. Absolutely.”

Regina nods once. “Good. Now. Hurry on to the feast. It should just be starting and I’m sure you’re both famished.”

They don’t need to be told twice. Henry and Roland scurry out of the room as fast as they can, not daring to look back and no doubt still oogling at their miraculous good fortune.

Gold watches them leave and then whirls around on Regina, furious. “You had no right-”

“Save it,” Regina snaps. “I will not excessively punish two otherwise good students just because you don’t like them.”

“Excessively punish?” Gold sputters incredulously. “They broke international wizarding law! Simply expelling them would be a blessing! They’re lucky they haven’t been summoned to the Ministry yet!”

“Well, I’m sure if they _are_ summoned, you will be the first witness to testify against them,” Regina hisses, moving to step past him.

Gold holds out his walking stick, blocking her path. “You think this is going to win you brownie points?” he says coolly.

Regina glares. “What the hell are you talking about?”

“You and I both know Colter and Knight should be expelled right now, but you didn’t have the nerve to do it because you don’t want to be the one to cast Henry Colter out of Hogwarts. What would people think of you then?” he goades.

“You know as well as I that Hogwarts is all either of those boys have,” Regina shoots back, pushing the walking stick out of her way. “I’m not about to take it away from them over an honest mistake.”

“Spoken like a true Gryffindor,” Gold replies sarcastically. He tilts his head in faux interest. “Tell me- how _is_ your forearm?”

Regina stares at him hard for a long moment, clenching and unclenching her fists, wand just begging to be brandished. “You leave my students alone,” she warns quietly. “And stay away from me.” She brushes past him, and he lets her go, but they both know his words will sting all the way back to the Great Hall.

* * *

 

By the time Regina makes it back to her seat, the Sorting is long over and the feast already dug into. She quickly scans over the newly filled seats at the Gryffindor table and reaches an approximate count of eleven new house members. Not bad, considering the total number of new first years. Even better, considering… well, considering her.

“Do I _want_ to know why Mr. Colter and Mr. Knight showed up twenty minutes late the feast?” Mary Margaret asks as Regina takes a long gulp of her wine.

“Oh, I won’t have to tell you. Just open the latest edition of the _Prophet,”_ Regina mutters.

Mary Margaret’s eyebrows shoot up. “The _Prophet?_ What did they _do?”_

“Have you ever seen a flying car?” Regina asks.

“Uh, no… what-”

“Well, now seven muggles in London can say they have,” Regina says bitterly, reaching for the potatoes au gratin with a little too much force.

Mary Margaret shakes her head even as her mouth hangs open. “My goodness,” she marvels. “They must be in a world of trouble.”

Regina snorts a “You have no idea,” just as Merlin rises from his grand chair and steps up to the podium. The Hall slowly grows quiet as student sush and cease their chattering, some of the first years craning their necks to get a view of their headmaster.

Merlin smiles warmly as he looks around at his students. “Good evening,” he begins. “And welcome to a new year at Hogwarts. We are thrilled to have each and every one of you with us for what will be a most excellent term. A few announcements, if you please. Firstly, I’d like to introduce you all to your Heads of Houses. Heading Ravenclaw, we have Professor Belle French.”

Ravenclaw erupts into cheers as their Head stands, blushing, and gives a small wave before retaking her seat.

“Heading Hufflepuff, we have Professor David Nolan,” Merlin goes on, extending a hand in David’s direction.

Mary Margaret claps along with the students as her husband stands and nods. Regina rolls her eyes.

“Heading Gryffindor, we have Professor Regina Mills.”

Leave it to her students to be the loudest and most riotous. Regina stands and gives a small nod, biting back her smile as Kristoff Rein, a rambunctious fifth year, takes two serving tray lids and bangs them together.

“Thank you, Gryffindor,” Merlin says after Regina’s students carry on for several moments longer than necessary.

Mary Margaret nudges Regina’s arm. “You have quite the fan club,” she whispers.

Regina smiles fleetingly. It’s no secret her students like her. Too bad she’s going to let each and every one of them down.

“And finally, heading Slytherin, we have Professor Alastor Gold.”

Gold doesn’t stand, even as his House stomps its feet and a few students clap. He sits coolly in his chair, hands folded over the top of his walking stick. Regina peers down the table at him, feeling both satisfaction and anxiety at his obvious displeasure.

“First years, I hope you were paying attention,” Merlin continues. “You will get to know your Head of House very well by the time you leave Hogwarts.” He clears his throat. “Now, continuing with the announcements, we’d like to extend a warm welcome back to Professor Mary Margaret Nolan as she returns to her post as Muggle Studies professor after being on maternity leave last semester.”

Mary Margaret smiles and blushes, giggling an, “Oh my,” as the Hall claps to welcome her back. She leans over and whispers, “I wasn’t expecting that,” when the Hall quiets once more.

“Secondly,” Merlin continues. “I am happy to announce that our very own Anton Little will be taking over the long-vacant position of Care of Magical Creatures professor.”

The students erupt into much more riotous cheers at that, several of Regina’s own tossing out whoops and “Yeah, Anton!”s as the half-giant stands and waves out to the crowd. The applause goes on for much longer than necessary and Regina tugs on Anton’s sleeve after awhile, pulling his attention from his adoring fans. “Oh!” he startles, hurrying to sit down. “Sorry, Professor Mills. Got a little carried away there,” he apologizes with a laugh.

“And finally, it is with deep regret that I announce that our quidditch madam, Professor Kathryn Midas, will not be returning to her post this year. She suffered an unfortunate accident on the pitch last week and is unable to perform her duties at this time.”

Whispering travels through the tables, no doubt lead by each House’s quidditch team, wondering what such news means for their season.

“However, I am pleased to announce that the post of quidditch master will be filled this year by our newest staff member- Professor Robin Locksley.”

The whisperings turn into outright chatter, cries of excitement bursting forth from all throughout the Hall. Students stand and crane their necks, searching the head table for the new quidditch master who is not there. Anton huffs out a, “How’d we manage to bag him?” and Mary Margaret gasps, “What a minute… isn’t that…”

Regina hears none of it. Barely sees any of it either, her brain short-circuiting for a minute. It can’t be. It _can’t_ be. Merlin wouldn’t… he couldn’t… how could he? Her eyes laser in on Henry Colter, sitting at the Gryffindor table- _her_ table- looking around excitedly with all the other students. He looks just like his father. God, he looks just like his father. And Robin, here, now, after everything, all these years-

Regina swallows and chances a glance down the table. Gold turns his head as she looks, a sinister, knowing smile inching across his face. He ever-so-subtly pushes up his robe sleeve and coasts a boney finger up and down his forearm.

Regina’s stomach pitches and she lurches to her feet, bumping the table with her knee as she stands. Her only saving grace is that Merlin had restarted the feast and the students’ attention is no longer on the head table.

“Regina, are you alright?” Mary Margaret asks, turning around in her chair as Regina half-trips her way past.

She ignores her. She ignores Mary Margaret and Anton and David and anyone else who asks after her. She needs to get some air. She needs to breathe. She needs get on a broomstick and fly far away from here. She stumbles out into the corridor, past paintings who also ask if she’s okay, through the archway and into the courtyard. A stone bench saves her from landing on the ground as she drops down, her knees shaking too much to carry her weight. She inhales, exhales, again, again, tries to breathe, and tries to forget. One out of two isn’t bad.

* * *

 

The feast is almost over, surely. It must be. She’s been out here long enough. The moon is high tonight, higher than usual, and possibly brighter. The harvest must be coming soon. She’ll have to ask Professor Jones. He’ll know. Based on the moon, he’ll probably also be able to tell her how good the harvest will be this year and if the muggles will have surplus or-

“The feast is inside, Professor Mills.”

Regina looks up, only slightly startled at the sound of Merlin’s voice. She hadn’t heard him coming, she never does, and she figured he’d find her eventually. He always does.

“I’m not hungry, sir,” she answers, clearing her throat.

Merlin nods and takes a few slow steps, hands clasped behind his back. “No, I reckon you wouldn’t be,” he says calmly. He stares up at the moon for a long moment, and then down at her, dark eyes full of understanding and mystery at the same time.

Regina looks away, suddenly feeling much younger and lifetimes away.

“Am I correct in understanding that Henry Colter and Roland Knight were seen driving a flying car by muggles?”

Regina looks back up, surprised. That’s not at all what she expected him to lead with. “Uh, yes, sir, they were. They also managed to damage the Whomping Willow a great deal.”

Merlin smiles. “If I know that tree like I do, I’d wager it did a great deal more damage to them than they ever did to it.”

“That’s what Colter said,” Regina says, trying to sit up to her full height and falling several inches short.

“And you chose not to expel them?”

“Sir, I couldn’t-”

“I know,” Merlin interrupts, nodding. He looks back up at the moon. “Hogwarts is all those boys have. It would be cruel to take it from them.”

Regina nods. She knew that. She knows that, it’s why she didn’t expel them in the first place, back when she was able to keep her shit together. _Damn it, Mills, get your shit together._ “Will they be summoned to the Ministry?” she asks.

Merlin shakes his head. “No, I don’t think so. And if they are, I will ensure no punishment comes to them. A month’s detention is sufficient, I believe.”

Regina nods, not bothering to ask how he knows what punishment she dealt out. Merlin just _knows._ He always does.

Silence lingers for a long minute, the elephant in the room just waiting to be acknowledged.

“I take it Professor Locksley’s appointment was a bit of a shock for you?” Merlin says finally, bringing his hands around to clasp them in front.

Regina laughs once, unsmiling. “You could say that,” she manages.

Merlin nods. “Yes, I figured that’s what took you out here. I wanted to tell you earlier, in private, but it happened all very suddenly. Today, in fact, and then the students started arriving and it just got away from me.” He looks at her quietly. “I apologize for blindsiding you.”

Regina shakes her head and looks away. “It’s fine,” she murmurs.

They both know it’s not, but they both ignore it. “How long has it been?” Merlin asks softly.

“Since the funeral,” Regina whispers. “Since… since Daniel.”

Merlin nods again. “I imagine seeing you will be quite a shock for Robin as well.”

Regina inhales and exhales shakily. “Yeah,” she breathes.

Silence passes again, long enough to have Regina wondering. “Merlin?”

“Yes, Regina?”

“Does… does Henry know?”

“About Robin and Daniel?”

“Yes.”

Merlin shakes his head. “No, I don’t believe he does. But I’d imagine he’ll be quite thrilled to meet his father’s best friend.”

* * *

 

The first day of classes is always the craziest. Students trying to find their way, first years getting lost, the Booth brothers- August and Jefferson- setting off fireworks in the third floor corridor. Chaos, mayhem, disorganization- it’s everywhere. And it’s starting to make Regina itch.

She directs students as best she can in the hallway, shouts for Kristoff Rein to get down from that statue right now or he’ll be on the first train home, and tries to steer first years far away from Peeves and his pranks. After ten minutes, though, she’s starting to long for the quiet and organized neatness of her office and private chambers.

She fares better than Professor Swan, at least. After getting accidently shoved by one too many students, Emma pulls out her wand and simply levitates herself over the throng in the corridor. As she passes overhead, she shouts for Regina to stop by the Defense Against the Dark Arts classroom when she gets a chance

Regina can only throw up a hand in acknowledgement as she tries to answer four first years at once.

The crowd dies out, thankfully, as more and more students manage to find their first classes and eventually Regina is left alone in the corridor with only a few stragglers rushing to their classrooms. She exhales a short breath and smooths out the front of her robes (simple black, but tinted with crimson, the red shining through when the light hits the fabric just right. Gryffindor pride, after all).

“Don’t have a first period, Professor Mills?” Professor Ruby Lucas asks breathlessly as she scurries down the hallway.

“Not today,” Regina answers. “Thankfully. Who do you have first?”

“Hufflepuff and Slytherin fourth years!” Ruby exclaims as she passes. “We’re transfiguring pillows into clouds!”

“Try not to make it rain this time!”

“No promises!” Ruby calls as she disappears around a corner.

Regina shakes her head and pulls out her wand, pointing it at all the loose papers now littering the ground and levitating them into the air with ease. The papers start stacking themselves as they float towards her and Regina reaches out for them just as new voices sound from around the corner.

“You should see what they’ve done with the Astronomy tower,” a male voice- Professor Jones, she realizes- says, growing louder. “It’s spectacular.”

“You always did spend ungodly amounts of time up there,” another male voice replies, but this one has Regina’s stomach flopping.

She swallows and reaches for the stack of papers hovering in the air before her, tucking them into her arm just as the voices round the corner. A deep breath, in and out, _find your courage, Mills, Gryffindors have courage._ She turns and comes face to face with eyes she hasn’t seen in eleven years.

Robin stops walking when he sees her, mouth open mid-sentence, and he stares. He stares and he blinks and then he shakes his head. “Regina?” he says, voice full of disbelief.

Regina tucks a piece of hair behind her ear. “Hello, Robin,” she returns, fingers tightening around the stack of papers in her arm.

Robin shakes his head again, a smile coming to his lips. “What are you doing here?” he asks.

Killian makes a face. “She works here, mate,” he answers, as if it were obvious.

“You do?”

Regina nods. “And you do too, now. Or, so I’ve heard.”

“Yeah. Yes. I mean, it’s my first day,” Robin answers. He’s still staring at her, hasn’t looked away yet, and Regina fidgets slightly under his gaze. “Dumbledore’s beard,” he breathes. “It’s been a long time.”

“Eleven years,” Regina says, voice shakier than she intends.

“Eleven,” Robin echoes. He looks down, finally, looks away from her, and Regina breathes again. “That means… God, has it been that long already? Daniel’s boy- he’s here, isn’t he?”

“Henry,” Regina supplies, though most likely Robin already knew his name. Everyone knows Henry’s name. “Yes, he’s here. He’s in his second year.”

Robin nods and blows out a breath. “Wow. I, uh… hadn’t realized how much time got away from me. How long have you been teaching here?”

“Eleven years,” Regina says again.

“Potions, I take it?”

Regina smirks suspiciously. “How’d you know?”

“You _lived_ in the Potions lab,” Robin chuckles. “And you were the only one in our entire year who could brew Felix Felicis without blowing something up.”

Regina fights against her smile. “You and Daniel blew up two cauldrons each, if I remember correctly.”

“Gold wanted to skin us alive for that one,” Robin laughs. “That old imp retire or did you kick him out?”

Regina starts to shake her head, but stops when Emma pokes her head around the corner. “Oh thank god,” she exclaims. “Mills, you need to get in here. Some of your first years are having a _meltdown.”_

Regina sighs and adjusts the papers under arm. “Right. I’ll be right there,” she promises, satisfying Emma enough that she ducks back around the corner. Regina looks back at Robin. “I’ve got to-”

“Of course,” Robin insists. “We’ll… catch up later, then?”

Oh, she should say no. She should absolutely say no. She should say no and put space and distance and the entire castle between them, but instead, she says, “Sure.” Like an idiot.

Robin smiles. “Great.”

And then Emma shouts, “Mills!” and Regina hurries off to deal with her Gryffindors.

 


	2. Chapter 2

_ “Come on, Regina. You have to give me  _ something,”  _ Daniel pleads as he scurries after her. _

_ Regina continues down the stairs, rolling her eyes at his desperation. “I offered to help you last night, but you said you didn’t have time to study. Something more important come up?” _

_ She doesn’t have to turn around to know he’s grinning sheepishly. _

_ “Well, Robin found some old quidditch bludgers in the shed and we were trying to transfigure them into attack toads to put in Grump’s office and-” _

_ Regina raises an unimpressed eyebrow. “That doesn’t have anything to do with Potions, does it?” _

_ Daniel smirks and lets out an exasperated sigh. “We didn’t succeed, if it makes you feel any better.” _

_ “Make  _ me  _ feel better? I’m not the one about to fail out of Potions right before the OWLs. And I’m not the one who wasted valuable study time on a prank that didn’t even work,” Regina admonishes. “ _ You  _ should be the one who doesn’t feel better.” _

_ “Well, I certainly don’t feel better considering my best friend in this world and all the worlds yet to be discovered won’t help me at least have a decent shot at passing the Potions exam this afternoon.” _

_ Regina rolls her eyes. “I offered to help and you-” _

_ “Regina,” Daniel interrupts, reaching out and touching her elbow. Regina’s skin tingles at the contact. “Please. I’m desperate. I’m an idiot and foolish, but I am begging you, please. I  _ can’t  _ fail this exam. I’ll flunk out of Hogwarts if I do.” _

_ Against her better judgement, Regina’s resolve starts to dwindle and then crumbles completely when his thumb begins to swirl circles on the skin of her arm. She exhales harshly, at least managing to maintain an air of annoyance, and reaches into her bag. “Here,” she says, handing over her Potions textbook. “I already studied, and my notes are in the back. I don’t know how much good they’ll do you since the exam is in… two hours, but you’re welcome to try.” _

_ Daniel’s smile explodes brightly as he takes the book. “You’re the best,” he says, ducking in and kissing her cheek. Regina’s heart stops and then surges. “I owe you one.” He turns and starts running back up the stairs, no doubt looking for Robin so they can both benefit from her goodwill. _

_ “I’ll just add that to your tab!” Regina calls after him. _

_ “You know I’ll pay you back eventually!” he shouts back, already disappearing around the corner. _

_ Regina laughs quietly to herself and shakes her head. Her cheek is burning from where he kissed her and she is foolish. So foolish to go weak at the knees from a hand on her arm and a completely innocent peck on the cheek. She shakes her head and adjusts her bag on her shoulder. She has a Potions exam in two hours. She needs to focus. But as she continues down the stairs, her cheek still burns and her knees aren’t as steady as they were five minutes ago. _

* * *

 

Professor Emma Swan is not tidy. At least, not by Regina’s standards. In Regina’s classroom, everything has a place and a label and Dumbledore help her if there is one speck of dust on anything. Emma’s classroom… not so much. An ‘organized mess’ is what Emma has taken to calling it, but to Regina, it’s still, well, a mess. She’s offered her help, on numerous occasions, to at least sort through all the clutter, but Emma turns her down every time. Unfortunate for Regina, really, since whenever she goes into the Defence Against the Dark Arts classroom, she starts to itch.

Today would be no different.  

First years are, evidently, even less tidy than Professor Swan (which is a feat in and of itself). Whatever they were doing in class today- and Dumbledore knows what they were doing in class today- has made the room look as if a tornado swept through it. Or more accurately, a hurricane.

“What in Dumbledore’s name happened here?” Regina asks, stepping over one of many puddles littering the floor. Water seems to be dripping from pretty much everywhere.

Emma pops up from behind her desk, blonde hair wet and dripping. She blows out an exasperated breath and shrugs off her damp robes, tossing them carelessly on the chair behind her. She’s left in jeans and a black tank- a tad inappropriate for school in Regina’s opinion, but it’s very Emma.

“First years,” she explains, bending over at the waist and then flipping back up, getting her wet hair off her face and neck. “You know that grindylow I have in a tank?”

“Uh… sure?”

“Yeah, well, I brought it out to show them, just to  _ show  _ them, we weren’t even going to be doing anything with it, and one of your Gryffindors- muggleborn, I’m guessing- had a full on panic attack. Screaming and throwing random spells everywhere, one of which managed to hit the tank at  _ just the right spot _ and send water all over my classroom, in case you hadn’t noticed the flood.” Emma shakes her head as she pulls her wand out of her discarded robes. “Honestly, I thought Gryffindors were supposed to be brave.”

“What happened to all your students?”

“I told them to get the fuck out so I can clean this up.”

“I take it you didn’t say it that way?”

“Some credit, Mills. Give it to me. I’m not completely unprofessional.”

Regina smiles even as she rolls her eyes. “What happened to the grindylow?”

Emma shrugs. “Got out before I could wrangle it. I had no idea those things could flop around that fast out of water. So if you see a grindylow mucking about, it’s mine.”

“Noted,” Regina says, gathering her robes in her hand as she steps over another puddle. “Do you want some help cleaning this up?”

“Nah, I got it,” Emma replies, holding up her wand and her free hand. She slowly turns about the room as white magic ripples from her wand, evaporating every drop of water from every surface and returning things to their rightful- cluttered- places.

“You couldn’t have organized some things in the meantime?” Regina sighs, closing the remaining distance between her and Emma’s desk.

“Why would I do that when I know where everything is?” Emma answers, tucking her wand into the back pocket of her jeans. She picks up her newly dried robes and tugs them back on, evidently unbothered by the wrinkles at the hem. Emma is much more showy in her Gryffindor pride than Regina, often donning robes of vibrant red and gold in various patterns and designs. Today, she’s sporting solid crimson with a wide gold band around the edges and a medallion of the Gryffindor lion. A comment about Santa Claus is on the tip of Regina’s tongue, but she holds it back.

“Right,” Regina says. “So since you have this under control now, do you need me to stay or-?”

Emma reaches for a stack of papers on her desk. “Could you stay for a minute? Have a seat.”

“I’m fine standing, thanks.”

Emma nods absently as her eyes flick back and forth over the paper on the top of the stack. Whatever it says is apparently exasperating because she rolls her eyes and flips it face down on her desk. “Right. So. How terribly attached are you to your Potions position?”

Regina furrows her brow. “Why?” she asks suspiciously.

Emma is silent for a moment longer as she reads another paper and, finding that one just as annoying, flips it over with a huff. She then pushes the entire stack back where it came from with an irritated frown. Whatever is so frustrating can apparently wait. She adjusts her robes and then finally looks up at Regina. “I’m leaving Hogwarts,” she says.

Regina blinks. “What? Why?”

“I’ve been offered a position at the Ministry,” Emma explains. “The Department of Magical Law Enforcement.” She grins. “They want me to be an Auror.”

Regina raises her eyebrows. It’s unsurprising, really. Emma had been a standout in DADA ever since her first years as a student at Hogwarts, and she had been incredible in the fight against You Know Who way back when, even if she was pretty young at the time. Working for the Ministry had always seemed inevitable for someone of her stature, but Regina has to admit, her presence at Hogwarts has been invaluable.

“Wow, Emma. That’s… that’s amazing,” she says. “Congratulations.”

Emma smiles. “Thanks. I’m really excited about it. I just wish the timing had been better so I wouldn’t have to leave after the school year already started.”

“Yeah, I’m sure that’s going to throw a wrench in things for a bit,” Regina agrees. “Does Merlin have an idea of who is going to fill in for you?”

Emma’s smile widens. “You are.”

Regina’s eyebrows soar. “You expect me to fill in for you on top of my own classes?”

Emma shakes her head. “No, stupid. I don’t want you to fill in for me. I want you to replace me.”

Regina laughs. Scoffs more like it, teetering on the edge of disbelief and incredulity. “What?” she says, searching Emma’s face for any sign of insincerity and finding none. Fuck. She’s serious. “You must be joking,” Regina insists.

Emma shakes her head. “Nope,” she replies, popping the ‘p’ sound. “I want you to be the next Defense Against the Dark Arts professor.”

Regina opens her mouth, but no sound comes out, words evaporating as her mind reels.  _ Bad idea, bad idea, bad idea _ , her brain shouts. And it  _ is  _ a bad idea. She is the least qualified person in this entire school to teach Defence Against the Dark Arts. She knows that. Gold knows that. Merlin knows that, doesn’t he? He knows what she’s done, what sins she’s committed that are unforgivable. It’s almost comical in its absurdity- Regina Mills teaching DADA.

“Emma… I’m not… I’m not qualified for this position,” she finally says, shaking her head slowly.

Emma makes a face. “What you talking about? Of course you are! You’re probably the most qualified person in this entire school.”

Regina shakes her head again. “No, I’m really not.”

“Regina, who better to teach DADA than someone who’s actually faced the dark arts head-on and won?” Emma argues.

“Lots of other professors have done that. Mary Margaret and David, Ruby-”

“But they’re not  _ you,”  _ Emma insists. “And  _ you  _ have more experience in this field than anybody.”

“Yeah,  _ partaking _ in the Dark Arts,” Regina snaps. “Not defending against them.”

“Does that matter?”

“Of course it does!”

Emma sighs and looks away for a moment. “Merlin thinks you’re the best choice,” she says, looking back up.

Regina’s heart skips a beat. “He… does?”

Emma nods. “Yeah. When I suggested you, he said you’d be the perfect fit.” She half-smiles. “I’m not the only one who knows what you can do.”

Regina chews the inside of her cheek. As much as she hates to admit it, the thought of being the DADA professor does give her a slight thrill. It’s one of the more prestigious posts at Hogwarts, but then again, so is Potions. And Potions is safe. Potions she knows, she’s comfortable there. With Potions, she won’t be a hypocrite every time she walks into her classroom.

“Look, I know why you’d be hesitant to accept,” Emma says after a long minute. “You don’t have to give me an answer right now. I’m not leaving for another two weeks. Just promise me you’ll think about it, okay?”

Regina blows out a breath and nods. “Yeah, I can do that. I’ll… I’ll let you know.”

Emma smiles. “Thanks, Mills.” She plops down in her chair then and reaches for the stack of irritating papers. “So. Do you know how we managed to bag Robin Locksley as our quidditch master?”

“Uh… Merlin probably asked him?”

Emma makes a face at her before she rolls her eyes in realization. “Oh, that’s right. You don’t follow quidditch.”

“Yes, I do,” Regina protests.

“Hogwarts quidditch doesn’t count,” Emma returns. “Honestly, Mills, you’re the only witch on the planet who isn’t into quidditch.”

“Quidditch should be a hobby, not a profession.”

“Yeah, whatever,” Emma dismisses. “My point, for those of us who are not quidditch fans, is that for the past six years, Robin Locksley has been the star chaser for the Heidelberg Harriers. He holds the record for most quaffle steals in one match.”

_ So that’s what he’s been doing with his life.  _ “He was the star of the Gryffindor team, too,” Regina says.

“Yeah, well, the Germans love him and the Irish hate him because he’s the reason they didn’t qualify for the World Cup two years ago. But a lot of folks around here follow him because, well, because he’s from around here.” Emma tilts her head. “You really didn’t know this?”

“I have better things to do with my time than watch grown witches and wizards chase each other around on broomsticks for millions of galleons,” Regina says.

“Clearly, you’re the only one,” Emma returns. “Continuing my point, I don’t understand why he’d leave such a good quidditch gig to come teach first years how to fly a broomstick.”

Regina shrugs. “Maybe he wanted a change of pace.”

Emma gives her an unimpressed look. “Yeah, because I’d want to give up a million-galleon paycheck for a ‘change of pace.’”

Regina rolls her eyes and glances at the clock on the wall. “Right. Well, as much as I’d like to keep listening to you whine, I have a class soon, so I need to get going.”

Emma waves her off. “Of course, of course. I didn’t mean to keep you. I hope your first class goes better than mine did.”

Regina says she hopes it does too and turns to make her exit, but then Emma ruins everything when she calls, “Don’t forget to think about it, Mills!” Regina’s stomach rolls all the way back to her classroom.

* * *

 

Professor Kathryn Midas is tidy. Or at least, Robin assumes she’s tidy based on the state of the quidditch storage shed. Everything in it’s place with labels and bins and a color code that looks much too intricate and complicated. Robin himself has never been particularly neat- something that drove Marian crazy back in the day- so he supposes it’s a good thing that he’s succeeding someone who already has their shit together. Easier for him to go through and find stuff and, hopefully, keep things organized as he uses them (but in all reality, he knows by Christmas, this place will be a wreck. Might as well enjoy it while it lasts).

Alright, so quaffles are here, newer ones on top, and spare brooms are… evidently bundled and labeled by House, and where are the bludgers? Chained down in a trunk- good. Don’t need a spare one of those getting loose.

Regina was always organized. Her books and quills and parchment were never misplaced, always easy to find, and how bizarre it is, to think of Regina, now, after all this time. Over a decade it’s been. Eleven years, she said. Has he really been away that long? It feels like a lifetime ago and just yesterday all at once that they were burying Daniel and Tink, mourning their deaths while simultaneously rejoicing over the defeat of You Know Who. That was the last time he had seen Regina and she had been so… empty back then. She seems better now, being back at Hogwarts, it’s always where she said she belonged.

He belonged here too, once. A lifetime ago. And now, he belongs here again, he supposes. Even if it feels wrong walking the halls without Daniel at his side. A Hogwarts without Daniel- or Will, for that matter- just feels unnatural. But Daniel is dead and Will is a traitor and Regina is here. Amazingly, after all this time, she’s here and-

Oi, the snitches, where the bloody hell are those? Can’t play quidditch without- ah, they’re in individual cases, stacked and color coded and labeled: match-ready or P.E. use only. Of course.

And Daniel’s boy, Henry, he’s here too. A second year, already. Dumbledore, the time’s gotten away from him. Wasn’t it just last week he was holding Henry as Daniel tried to convince Tink it’d be a good idea to get Henry his own little broom? Start him young, Daniel had reasoned. Avoid broken bones before the age of two, Tink had argued. Tink won that one.

Hogwarts will be good for Henry, that much Robin is sure of. Get him away from Tink’s awful muggle family. Dumbledore knows  _ why _ Merlin saw it fit to leave him with them. Robin had offered to raise the lad himself, but Merlin said it would be best for him to grow up away from the fame and pressure and expectations that are now attached to his name. Regina had disagreed with Merlin back then and Robin had been inclined to agree with her. Regina was usually right when it came to things like that-

“Professor Locksley?”

Oh, that’s weird. Hearing someone address him in such a way. He’ll definitely need some time to get used to that. 

“Yes?” Robin answers, turning around to face the person standing in the doorway of the shed.

A tall boy with dark hair and a serious expression holds out his hand. “Eric Fisher, sir. Captain of the Ravenclaw quidditch team,” he says.

Robin reaches out and shakes Eric’s hand, noticing that he does indeed have blue lining his school robes. “Yes, Mr. Fisher, what can I do for you?”

“Sir, I just wanted to ask you about the quidditch practice schedule,” Eric says. “Over the summer, Professor Midas had arranged for teams to reserve practice times for this semester, but I wasn’t sure if you were going to stick to that schedule or if you were going to handle practice differently.”

“Uh…” Robin stammers. Practice times hadn’t even crossed his mind yet, to be quite honest. Anything beyond this shed hasn’t crossed his mind yet, to be  _ completely  _ honest, but apparently he needs to get on top of his shit. Once he finds out what all that shit is, of course. 

“Right,” he finally says. “I haven’t really gotten to look over the practice schedule, but, uh, you said you already arranged with Professor Midas when you want to practice?”

Eric nods. “Yes, sir. At least,  _ I  _ did. I can’t speak for the other teams.”

_ Ravenclaws _ , Robin thinks with a chuckle. Always ahead of the game. “Alright, well for now, let’s just go with what you and Professor Midas decided ahead of time. If I see something that I’d like to change, I’ll let you know.”

Eric nods. “Okay, thank you, sir. If you need any help with anything, just let me know. I’m more than happy to assist.”

Robin exhales as he glances around the shed at all the supplies he’s yet to go through. “Thank you, Mr. Fisher. I just might take you up on that offer.”

Eric nods and says he hopes they have a great season together, then takes his leave.

Robin waits a moment and then pulls out his wand, magicking up a small bit of parchment and a quill. He scribbles down ‘find practice schedule’ and ‘check office’ and adds ‘meet captains’ at the last second. He’s shoving the paper into his robes pocket just as a small knock gets his attention.

“Professor Locksley?” a petite blonde girl asks from the shed doorway.

“Yes?” Robin replies, looking up.

The girl smiles politely and gives a short nod. “My name is Ella Cinders. I’m the captain of the Hufflepuff quidditch team. I was looking for you and I just ran into Eric and he said I could find you here.”

“Yes, I just spoke with him,” Robin says. “What can I do for you, Miss Cinders?”

“The practice schedule, sir. I was wondering when we would find out what times we have the pitch reserved.”

Robin nods with a smile. “Yes, Mr. Fisher was wondering the same thing. He said you arranged times with Professor Midas at the end of last term?”

Ella nods. “Yes, sir. Although, if possible, I’d like to change the times I originally selected.”

“Why’s that?”

“I added another class over the summer and Magical Theory only meets in the late afternoon which is when I had hoped to practice initially. Do you think it would be possible for me to switch to the evenings instead?”

Robin pulls the scrap of parchment out of his pocket and scribbles down another reminder. “Well, I haven’t found the practice schedule yet, but when I do, I’ll check to see if that’s doable and I’ll let you know. Alright?”

Ella nods and smiles again. “Thank you, sir. I appreciate it.” She turns to go, but stops and looks back, smiling shier than before. “By the way, sir, I just wanted to let you know that I’m a big fan of yours. I’ve cheered for the Harriors since I was four years old and you’re one of my favorite players.”

Robin chuckles. “Well, I’m honored, thank you. I look forward to cheering for  _ your  _ team this season.”

That was apparently the best thing he could have said because Ella’s smile grows so wide it threatens to break her face. “Thank you, sir,” she says, barely containing her excitement. “I- I look forward to working with you.”

She turns to leave again, but crashes into the chest of another student- a lanky boy with brown hair who frowns the moment he looks down at Ella. The lining of his school robes is green. “Cinders,” he grumbles, taking a step to put space between them.

“Piedmont,” she returns, irritated.

“Might want to watch where you’re going,” the boy says. “Don’t want you getting hurt. It wouldn’t do to have Hufflepuff lose it’s one good player.”

Ella scowls. “We’ll let the points do the talking, Piedmont,” she snaps. She looks back at Robin and musters a smile, albeit one less bright than before. “I’ll see you later, Professor Locksley.”

Robin nods as she leaves and then turns his attention to the boy who holds out his hand.

“Peter Piedmont, professor,” he says with an air of…  _ something _ that rubs Robin the wrong way. “I’m the captain of the Slytherin quidditch team.”

Robin reaches out and shakes his hand, eyeing him with cautious curiosity. “I take it you’re here about the practice schedule?”

“Yes, professor. More specifically, I’m here to request that Slytherin’s practice times remain as they are. Our strength and conditioning coach can only be here at the times we reserved.”

“Uh, strength and conditioning coach?” Robin repeats. He never had anything so elaborate when he played at Hogwarts.

“Yes, professor. We won the quidditch cup last year and we wish to maintain our dominant performance,” Peter explains, smug smirk coming to his lips.

“I see,” Robin says slowly, reaching into his pocket and pulling out the parchment again. “And when, exactly, were you originally scheduled to practice?”

“The evenings.”

Robin stops writing for a split second. “The evenings, huh?” he repeats, scrawling down the rest of his note. 

“Correct, professor.”

Robin nods and tucks the parchment away. “Right. Well, I’ll look over the schedule and let you know what I decide.”

A flicker of something- irritation, or anger maybe- flashes across Peter’s face, but then he smiles smoothly and whatever it was is gone. “Of course, professor, thank you.” He holds out his hand again. “I look forward to working with you this season.”

Robin shakes his hand and nods shortly. “Likewise.”

_ Slytherins,  _ Robin thinks with a sigh as Peter leaves. Personally, he’s never gotten along with too many of them. It’s nothing against the House as a whole, but Robin just… clashes with the personalities typically found wearing the green and silver. There’s only one Slytherin that he’s ever really cared for and she’s-

“Professor Locksley?”

Robin resists the urge to groan. Do all the quidditch captains have class breaks at the same time? He just needs a hour to go through the shed and then he can find the bloody practice schedule and answer all their questions. Robin takes a short breath and turns toward the door, forcing a smile as, presumably, the Gryffindor quidditch captain steps into the doorway.

“Yes?” Robin says.

“Merida Dunbroch, sir,” the girl introduces, reaching out and shaking Robin’s hand heartily. “Captain of the Gryffindor quidditch team.”

“Yes, I figured,” Robin replies. “You’re the fourth one to find me in the last fifteen minutes.”

Merida laughs. “Giving you a hard time already, huh? Better get used to it- quidditch is taken real seriously here.”

“Yes, I know. It was like that back when I played too.”

Merida snaps her fingers. “Hey, that’s right, isn’t it? You played for Gryffindor. Professor Nolan said you were the star of the team.”

Robin chuckles. “Well, I don’t know about  _ that,  _ but the team was very good back in the day. We won the cup a few times if I remember correctly.”

Merida nods. “Yeah, like three times in a row. We’re gonna win it this year. I can feel it.”

“Oh yeah? You have some good players, then?”

“Some of the best. I’m a Chaser myself, but we have Philip Morris as our Keeper and he holds the school record for most saves in one game. And Kristoff Rein is one of our Beaters. I don’t know if you’ve met him yet, but when you do, you’ll see- he just has that Beater quality about him. And Henry Colter is our Seeker. Youngest quidditch player at the school in a century and-”

“Henry Colter, you said?” Robin interrupts.

Merida nods. “Yesir. Got us ranked second in the tournament last year. Rotten luck in the semifinal match, though. We were up against Ravenclaw and they’re so strategic, ya know, and I’m more of ‘plan as you go’ type of player, so-”

Robin nods absently as Merida talks. Daniel had been a Seeker. The two of them and Will and Tink, they had all played for Gryffindor together. Won three cups in their time on the team. Daniel could have played professionally, if he wanted, if he hadn’t wanted to be an Auror so badly, if You Know Who hadn’t destroyed everything. It only makes sense, Robin supposes, that his son would be an excellent player as well.

Merida stopped talking at some point and Robin can’t remember what exactly was the last thing she said, so he goes with, “I’m sure your team will perform spectacularly this season. Um, I take it you’re wondering about the practice schedule?”

Merida tilts her head. “Oh yeah. I guess I should find out about that, huh?”

“That’s… not why you’re here?”

She shakes her head. “No, I just wanted to meet you, to be honest.” She laughs. “I don’t support the Harriers, but you gave Ireland a real good whomping two years ago and I hate the Irish, so you’ve always been a good guy in my books.”

Robin chuckles. “I’ll remember that. I don’t think too many people around here think the same, since the Irish have a big following in these parts.”

Merida shrugs. “I follow the Wigtown Wanderers, and they’re playing right crummy these days, so I’ll take what I can get.”

“Yeah, Wigtown has been struggling a bit, haven’t they?”

“Oh, don’t get me  _ started.  _ Did you catch the match last week? I’ve never seen such sloppy chasing in my life. You’d think with the coaching change that-”

The sound of bells chiming in the distance cuts her off and Merida glances behind her, out of the shed. “Oh, shoot, it’s eleven, isn’t it? I have class in ten minutes.” She turns back around. “I gotta go, but it was nice meeting you, professor! I’m sure I’ll be seeing you soon.”

“Yes, of course. Uh, Miss Dunbroch?” Robin says, catching Merida in her hurry to leave.

“Yes, sir?” she answers, turning back around halfway.

“The practice schedule,” Robin explains. “I haven’t gotten to it yet, but when I do, I’ll be sure to let you know your times.”

Merida smiles. “Great. I’ll let Professor Mills know.”

Robin blinks. “Professor Mills?”

Merida nods. “Yeah, she likes to know when we practice. She comes to watch sometimes.”

“Why… why would she do that?”

“Most of the Heads of House watch their teams practice from time to time,” Merida explains with a shrug. “They like to make sure everything is going smoothly.”

Heads of House? Regina… Head of House? Head of  _ Gryffindor?  _ That… that can’t be right. That would mean… but that’s impossible, she’s not… she isn’t… she was… 

Merida’s giving him a funny look and so Robin shakes his head, composes himself, and says goodbye, urging her to hurry up if she wants to make her class on time. When he’s alone again, Robin looks around the shed. Going through everything suddenly seems much less important than it did twenty minutes ago. 

Regina, Head of Gryffindor? That can’t be right. Unless there’s another Professor Mills he doesn’t know about. Because the one he knows has been in Slytherin since her first day at Hogwarts.

Robin shakes his head again and steps out of the shed, locking the doors behind him. The bloody practice schedule can wait. He needs to find Regina.

* * *

 

“Mr. Booth, set Mr. Darling down at once!” Regina shouts across the courtyard, marching over to where her seventh year is levitating the poor Slytherin second year upside down.

“But he said he wanted to fly, professor,” Jefferson argues, setting John down regardless. The Slytherin scurries away, robes askew. “I was just giving him a hand.”

Regina glares at him disapprovingly, eyebrows arched. “Flying is for owls and brooms, Mr. Booth. And you know better than to use magic on other students. That will be five points from Gryffindor.”

Jefferson makes a sound of protest, but Regina shuts him down.

“Yes, from my own House, Mr. Booth. And how shameful that my own students need disciplined in such a way. I take it you’ll refrain from bringing shame to our House in the future.”

“Yes, Professor Mills,” Jefferson grumbles. 

“Good. Now get going. I do believe you have Charms in five minutes.”

Mr. Booth nods reluctantly and gathers his books, trudging off in the direction of David’s classroom.

Regina sighs and shakes her head. Dumbledore knows why she got stuck with one of the Booth brothers. At least she doesn’t have both. She and Professor French have the honor of sharing that burden. 

“Remind me never to get on your bad side.”

Regina turns at the sound of Robin’s voice, ignoring the quickening of her pulse. She doesn’t want to talk to him. She doesn’t want to  _ see  _ him, to be quite honest, but they’re co-workers now and she promised they’d catch up and at least she has class soon. She’ll have an excuse to stop talking to him. 

“I believe you  _ have  _ been on my bad side,” she says, managing a smile. “Many times, actually.”

Robin chuckles as he crosses the courtyard. “Yeah, Dan and I seemed to be on your bad side more than we were on your good.”

“And whose fault was that?” Regina returns.

“Dan’s. Completely,” Robin answers, smile in full force as he comes to stand in front of her.

His smile is infectious and Regina finds hers growing despite herself. It’s been eleven years since she’s seen that smile and who would have known that it could still raise her spirits like it did back then? Of course, Daniel usually had the monopoly on making her laugh, but Robin knew how to get a grin out of her too.

“Have you gotten settled in?” Regina asks, tamping down her smile. It wouldn’t do to have her students see her grinning easily. She has an intimidating reputation to uphold, after all.

“Uh, to be quite honest, no,” Robin answers. “I mean, my stuff is in my chambers, but nothing’s unpacked yet. And I was trying to go through the quidditch shed, but I kept being interrupted.”

“By who?” Regina asks, starting to walk towards her classroom, slowing until Robin begins to follow. She doesn’t want to talk to him, but she does have class soon and maybe he’ll get the hint and leave her alone.

“The House captains,” Robin answers. “They’re all in a tizzy about the practice schedule. I haven’t even  _ seen  _ the schedule yet, so I couldn’t really give them straight answers.” He pauses for a second. “I met your captain. Merida.”

Regina’s lungs stop for a second. “You did?” she comments neutrally, hoping her voice doesn’t give away the sudden shaking of her heart.

“Yeah,” Robin says with a nod. “She’s… not what I was expecting.”

And of course she’s not. Because Robin knows. Robin was there for everything. He’s seen who Regina really is. He can see straight through this lie she and Merlin have fabricated. He knows she’s not a Gryffindor, she never was and isn’t now, regardless of what Merlin and the Sorting Hat say. She’s a fake and a hypocrite and he knows the truth and he probably hates her for it. Hates her for being a fake Gryffindor while Daniel- who was a lion through and through- is dead and she’s mocking his memory by being in his House, a place she never belonged, a place she doesn’t belong, but here she is, the fucking Head of House, and Robin probably hates her-

“Her… colors weren’t what I was expecting,” Robin amends. “But… they suit you.” He turns his head to look at her and Regina looks up in surprise.

“They… do?” she asks.

Robin nods and quirks a grin. “Oh, yeah. They really bring out your eyes.”

Regina stares at him for a split second before she realizes he’s joking. She breathes out a laugh, too on edge to manage much else.

“I’m kidding,” Robin says. “But I  _ was  _ surprised. I didn’t know you could be Head of a House you don’t belong to.”

Regina licks her lips. “I… am a Gryffindor,” she explains slowly. “Merlin re-Sorted me.”

Robin’s eyebrows shoot up. “He did? I didn’t know you could do that, either.”

Regina laughs shortly, humorlessly. “Neither did I. But you know Merlin. Always doing stuff outside of the box.”

Robins nods and thank Dumbledore, they’re at her classroom.

“Huh. Regina Mills, Gryffindor,” he says, as if to test out the words on his tongue. “I like it. And I can see it.”

Regina looks up as they stop in front of her room. “You can?”

Robin nods. “Yeah. It makes sense to me.”

Regina’s face goes incredulous before she can stop it. “It  _ does?” _ she asks. 

Robin huffs a laugh as if he can’t believe she doesn’t believe him. And she doesn’t. Why would she believe him? She doesn’t even believe herself.

“Of course it does,” Robin insists. “The Sorting Hat said so, Merlin clearly thinks so, and like I said, it suits you.” He touches her arm lightly. “You never really fit into Slytherin, anyway.”

Well, that’s a lie. That’s a blatant lie and they both know it. She  _ is  _ a Slytherin. She’ll always be a Slytherin. And how ironic that years ago, she would have given wand and soul to be a Gryffindor and now here she stands in robes that shimmer red, with a lion crest hanging on the door to her office, and all she wants is to shrink back into the green and silver that shaded her childhood. She’s a snake in lion’s clothing. No amount of false courage or red robes can change that.

The bells chime from the clock tower in the distance. The bottom of the hour. Regina inhales and glances in toward her classroom. “Um, I- I have to get ready for class,” she says, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear.

“Of course,” Robin replies. “Would you mind… can I walk you to your classroom?”

Regina nods her head toward her room. “Already here,” she answers.

Robin turns his head and takes in the Potions classroom for the first time. “I thought Potions was taught in the dungeons?”

“It was, when Gold taught it. But when I took over, I asked to be moved to the main level.” She suppresses a shudder. “I hated going down there.”

“But you were down there all the time,” Robin points out.

“Yeah, for the Potions room and because my common room was down there. But I hated going through the dungeons.” She gives him a look. “Partly because I had no idea what gross things you and Daniel had planted down there to prank poor unsuspecting Slytherins.”

“Oh, so it’s my fault?” Robin laughs. 

“Most things are,” Regina returns.

Robin shakes his head, still chuckling. “I’ll remember that,” he says, then gestures in toward her room. “I’ll let you get to class.”

Regina nods, half-smiling, and takes a few steps into her room, only to stop again when Robin says her name. “Yes?” she answers, turning back around.

He looks sheepish all of a sudden, like the schoolboy he was over a decade ago. “The red,” he says, holding out a hand and gesturing toward her robes. “It does bring out your eyes.”

Regina blinks, speechless, as chatter and white noise suddenly grow in the hallway. Classes are letting out which means hers will be starting soon and she needs to get it together.  _ Get it together, Mills.  _ Groups of students start passing by her doorway and Robin looks out into the hallway for a split second, long enough for Regina to take a deep breath and reset her composure. When he looks back, it’s to give her a smile and a wave goodbye and then he’s gone, disappearing into the growing throng of students. 

Regina closes her eyes and shakes her head once. Right. Class. Need to do that. She exhales and turns to walk toward her desk, obstinately ignoring the old feeling of warmth that has suddenly spread through her chest.


	3. Chapter 3

_ It’s raining. It’s the first day of September, and it’s raining. Somewhere, a million miles away, the Hogwarts Express is rolling through the countryside, passing serenely through quiet hills and silent valleys. New and returning students alike, they’re all on the train. _

_ Regina is not.  _

_ Daniel, Robin, Will, and Tink are not. Wherever they are, they’re certainly not at Hogwarts.  _

_ Regina envies them. Because wherever they are has to be better than here. But wherever they are, they’re probably planning. Foolishly, they’re planning. _

_ The Dark Lord is also planning. And the Dark Lord plans better. _

_ “Regina.” Mother’s voice cracks sharply through the air, but Regina doesn’t jump. Not anymore. _

_ She turns away from the window. “Yes, Mother?” _

_ “Come,” Mother instructs, holding out a hand. “The Dark Lord has summoned us.” _

_ “For what?” Regina asks, crossing the room. _

_ Mother frowns. “It is not our place to ask questions. It is our place to obey. Now come.” _

_ “Where is Zelena?” Regina asks as she takes her mother’s hand. _

_ “Already with the Dark Lord, I’d imagine,” Mother answers, leading Regina out of the room. They get halfway down the hall, toward the fireplace, when Mother stops. “Regina, what is it? You seem upset.” _

_ Regina shakes her head. “I’m fine, Mother.” _

_ Mother looks her over for a moment and the tsks. “You’re pouting. About not going back to Hogwarts.” She shakes her head. “Regina, there is nothing for you there. That place is nothing but a breeding ground for mudbloods. You’re better off here.” _

_ Regina nods, the word  _ mudblood _ leaving a bitter taste in her mouth. She’s supposed to use that word. She wants to use it. She did use it, once, and the last time she used it, her world had come crashing down. Daniel is somewhere, planning, and he’s not at Hogwarts. If he were there, would he care that she wasn’t? Not anymore, probably.  _

_ Flithy… filthy mudblood. Ungrateful mudblood.  _

_ She shouldn’t miss him. _

_ She does. _

_ “Of course, Mother,” Regina says, pulling up her sleeve and brandishing her wand. “Shall we Apparate? The Floo is so disorienting.” _

_ Mother smiles, sickly sweet, and links her arm around Regina’s. “Perfect, dear.” _

_ Regina presses her wand to her forearm and then they disappear with a sharp ‘pop.’ _

* * *

 

The trek to the Astronomy tower is a pain in the ass. It’s flight after flight after flight of stairs, half of which are only wide enough to fit one person. The number of times Regina has had to press herself flat against the wall to allow someone to pass her is starting to border on the ridiculous. How Killian does this everyday, multiple times a day, and still maintains his sanity, is beyond her.

How his students do it everyday, well, she can see how they manage. If the way they stare moony-eyed at Killian whenever he speaks is any indication, they don't mind climbing countless stairs everyday at all. They’d probably jump in the Black Lake if Killian said class was being held at the bottom of it.

Her point is proven when she reaches the top of the Astronomy tower. Two girls- Hufflepuff fourth years, by the look of it- are practically bursting with giggles as they speak with Killian up at his table. Hair twirling, dorky smiles, stupid questions, the whole nine yards. Regina rolls her eyes as she leans against the door jamb, crossing her arms and waiting impatiently.

Killian smiles that charming little smile at the girls and Regina can practically hear their hearts pop. She sighs, irritated and a little too loudly because it draws Killian’s attention. He looks up at Regina and then back to the students. “If you have any more questions about the homework, I’ll be in my office until dinner,” he says. “Feel free to stop by.”

The girls gush that they’ll be sure to do that and then they turn and make for the steps, whispering and giggling as they go with no regard for Regina as they pass. She watches them descend down the stairs and then turns to Killian, eyebrow arched.

“Really?” she sighs disdainfully, pushing off from the wall and walking toward his table.

Killian shrugs. “What? I’m fostering their interest in Astronomy,” he defends.

“Oh, yes. Because Astronomy is what’s got them twirling their hair and giggling,” Regina returns.

Killian rolls his eyes. “They’re teenage girls with a crush. Harmless. If it gets them to do their Astronomy homework, I’m not going to stop them.”

Regina snorts her disapproval, but drops it.

Killian stands and adjusts his black robes, straightening the knot of his deep green tie. “I take it you didn’t come all the way up here just to berate me for my interactions with my students?” he leads, walking around his table. His classroom is set up a little strange, with his students’ desks arranged in a semicircle around a very large sundial. Little gold sextants and downturned telescopes, unused during day classes, sit on the edge of each desk. Killian walks through the arched rows, bending down and picking up pieces of paper and scraps of trash that have made their way to the floor throughout the day.

“No,” Regina answers. “Believe it or not, I came up here to get your opinion on something.”

“Mills, I’ve told you before- I think your hair looks fine,” Killian returns, tacking on a saucy grin.

Regina scowls. “Knock it off. This is actually important.”

Killian sighs. “Fine. What is it?”

Regina looks away for a moment, and then looks back. “Has Emma… told you any… news, recently?”

“Like that she’s leaving Hogwarts?” Killian guesses.

Regina nods. “Yeah.”

Killian exhales, bobbing his head up and down. “Yeah, she told me last night. Why? When did she tell you?”

“This morning,” Regina replies, choosing to ignore the implication that Emma and Killian were together last night. Their relationship, as hot and cold as it runs, is none of her business. But she’d be lying if she said she wasn’t curious about what got their spark flaring up again, considering how badly they left things at the start of the summer. “She… told me something else, too.”

“Yeah?”

Regina nods, hand fisting in the fabric of her robes to avoid fidgeting with her hair. “She told me who she wants to replace her when she’s gone.”

“Did she?” Killian says, furrowing his brow as he bends to pick up another scrap of paper. “She only just found out she had the position at the Ministry two days ago. I didn’t think she- or Merlin- would find someone so quickly.”

Regina exhales, slow and steady. “She wants me to replace her.”

Killian straightens and turns to face her directly. “She does?”

Regina nods, huffing out a laugh. “Yeah. Crazy, right?”

He quirks his eyebrows, considering, and then shrugs. “Not really,” he replies.

Regina laughs out right at that. “What?” she says. “Of course it’s crazy. I can’t be the Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher.”

“Why not?”

“Why not?” Regina repeats, incredulous. “Killian, you of all people know why not.”

“Regina, that was years ago-”

“Doesn’t matter,” she interrupts. “If I teach DADA, I’d be the biggest hypocrite.”

Killian gives her a look. “I thought you said you wanted my opinion.”

“Well, I do. But I thought you’d agree with me.”

He shakes his head and walks over to the sundial in the middle of the room, fiddling with whatever instruments rest on its perimeter. “Emma told you why she wanted you to replace her, didn’t she?”

“Yes-”

“What did she say?”

Regina frowns. “She said she thought I was the best person for the job. That since I have experience fighting the Dark Arts, I’d be a perfect fit.”

“And you don’t agree?”

Regina scoffs. “Are you kidding? Of course I don’t agree. I’m… not… I mean, you know what I am.”

“What you  _ were,”  _ Killian corrects. “And you know what I was, too. Like I said, that was years ago. We’re different people now.”

Regina looks away, unconvinced, but unsure about what to say to make him understand, to make  _ anyone  _ understand. She’s not what they think she is, and how can they expect her to live up to these expectations they’ve set for a person who doesn’t exist? A person who she is not?

Killian turns to face her again. “Let me ask you this- do you feel an uncontrollable longing for the Dark Lord to return?”

Regina’s eyes widen. “No. Dumbledore above, no.”

Killian nods. “Do you feel hostility toward muggleborn students?”

“No…”

“Have you used any of the Unforgivable Curses in the past decade?”

“No…”

Killian shrugs. “Then I’d say you’re in the clear, Mills.”

“But-”

He sighs dramatically. “Look, I get the whole self-loathing thing. I do, believe me. And I understand- completely- why you would not want to take this position. But you need to realize that just because you made mistakes in the past, doesn’t mean you need to let them dictate the rest of your life.”

“Some of the things I’ve done, I don’t get to just walk away from,” Regina argues. “I don’t get to just move on and forget they happened.”

“And these horrible things you’ve done- why are you not in Azkaban for them?” Killian challenges. “If you’re such a horrible person, why are you not locked up right now?”

Regina looks away, caught. “Because…”

“Because, if I remember correctly, Merlin testified at your trial and said- under oath- that you single-handedly and at great personal risk, provided crucial information that led to the downfall of You Know Who himself,” Killian answers for her. He holds up his hands. “If that’s not absolution and penance all rolled into one, I don’t know what is.”

Regina shakes her head. “Not being punished for something doesn’t mean it didn’t happen.”

Killian nods. “True. But you know what also happened?” He pauses. “The Dark Lord fell.” Killian points at her. “He fell because of you. Now, I don’t know what happened back then. You and Merlin will probably take that secret to your graves, and that’s fine, but that’s not what’s important. You want to know why Emma picked you to replace her?”

Regina doesn’t answer.

“Because she knows that you know, more than anyone, what it takes to go up against the Dark Arts and  _ win.”  _ Killian shrugs. “Past mistakes aside, you have what it takes, Mills. None of us would be here if you didn't.”

Regina sighs, irritated that he has a point, and frustrated that she's starting to see it. God, Mother would be ashamed of her right now. Listening to advice from a  _ Jones _ , of all people. And advice about being the DADA professor, at that. That'd be two strikes against her, if Mother were here. But she's not and Regina can't even remember the last time they spoke so what does it matter? 

Daniel and Robin hated Mother. They used to promise that “one of these days,” they'd give her a piece of their minds and steal Regina away from Mills Manor for good. They never did. Never got the chance. Would Daniel want her to take the DADA position? Daniel would probably  _ have  _ the DADA position if he were here, so then it wouldn't matter anyway. Why couldn't Daniel just be here?

Killian walks back to his table and sits down in his chair. “Do you want to be the DADA professor?” he asks bluntly when Regina stays silent.

She chews on her lip. Yes. She wants to say yes, but if she were able to say yes, she wouldn't be at the top of the Astronomy tower seeking advice from Killian, of all people. So she'll say no. She'll say no and decline the position and-

“Gold wants it,” Killian states.

Oh. She hadn't thought of that.

“He's been gunning for that job since we were students,” Killian continues.

“I know,” Regina says. Because she does know. She had known this entire time and yet she hadn't thought of it. Gold doesn't know Emma is leaving yet, but when he finds out, he'll be pushing Merlin for her job quicker than a snitch in a quidditch championship. If Gold becomes the DADA professor… Regina shakes her head.  _ That  _ cannot happen.

“We can't let him get that job,” she says.

Killian grins. “Well, looks like one of us has the power to do just that.”

She’s not afraid of Gold. Standing up to him is not something she shies away from and Dumbledore knows how many times she's had to stand up to him. But if she takes his coveted position away from him- again, technically- who knows how far he'll go to take back what he wants?

“He'll be pushing for it,” Regina says. “Hard.”

Killian nods. “Oh, I have no doubt. Probably doubly so considering you pushed him out of Potions and we all know how bitter he still is about that. Bastard hates Divination.”

“Yeah, well, he's the only one who can fucking teach it,” Regina snaps, harsher than she means it. The number of times she's had this argument with Gold….

Killian puts his hands up, pacifying. “I know, Mills. And frankly, you're a better Potions professor than him anyway. But you know as well as I that he won't give up the chance to be the DADA professor without a fight. Which is probably another reason why Emma and Merlin think you're the best person for the job.”

“What do you mean?”

“They know you won't back down from Gold,” Killian explains. “And that's the kind of person they need.”

Regina nods absently. Fighting with Gold, that she knows how to do. That is something she is capable of. Teaching students how to fight evil, now that's where she's stuck. Why do those two things suddenly have to be dependent?

“Would you take the job?” Regina asks. “If you were me, would you take it?”

Killian makes a face, considering. “Well, I don’t know. Hadn’t thought about it, to be honest.” He grins. “Course, I always love screwing over Gold, so all other circumstances aside, I’d probably take it just to make him mad.”

“Funny, that’s not a good enough incentive for me,” Regina grumbles.

“Fair enough,” Killian concedes. “But… yeah, I think I’d take it, if it was offered to me.”

“Why?”

“Because I did my time,” he answers. “I served my punishment and made up for what I did. I’m not letting my life be strangled by my past.”

“You think people like us get to move on from stuff like that?” Regina asks. “That we get to change?”

Killian nods. “I hope so. Otherwise, we’ve wasted our lives, haven’t we?”

Regina chews on her lip, looks away and then back. “You still wear long sleeves.”

Killian nods again. “So do you.”

“That’s not going to change.”

“Not everything can,” Killian says. “But that doesn’t mean nothing will.” He stands and gathers a pile of papers from his desk. “I have a meeting with Merlin to get to. But you want my advice?”

Regina nods.

“Take the job,” he states. “It’s just one more step forward.”

Regina sighs. “I came up here because I thought you’d talk me out of it,” she admits.

Killian grins. “Well, I’ve never been known to do what you want.” He pulls out his wand. “Now do me a favor, and get out of my classroom. I gotta lock up before I head to Merlin’s.”

Regina shakes her head as she turns for the stairs, mind whirling. One step forward. One step forward always seems to turn into two steps back for her. And this isn’t just a step, it’s a leap. She’s not sure if she’s ready to jump. She’ll probably just come crashing down.

* * *

 

Robin remembers the first time he rode a broomstick. It was as if he had grown a pair of wings and could suddenly navigate the air with the grace of a sparrow. It had taken him one try, just one, to get the hang of it, and after that, his feet were dangling above the ground more than they were walking on it. Quidditch came soon after, when he made the team in his second year and oh, Daniel had been so jealous. Dan made the team the next year, of course, but for one year, Robin was the coolest kid in his year and sometimes, he forgot that he couldn’t actually fly.

When Merlin said Robin would be teaching first years how to ride brooms in addition to his quidditch duties, Robin had nearly accepted the position on that alone. Showing kids how to take to the air and find the same joy in flying- well, there really couldn’t be anything better, could there?

He has his first of two flying classes after lunch, with Hufflepuff and Ravenclaw first years. He lines the brooms up in two rows, facing each other, just like his own flying classes had been set up, and waits, eagerly, as about twenty or so students venture down from the castle to the field beside the quidditch pitch. Some look excited, some look wary, and others just look confused.

Robin smiles at them as they congregate near the brooms, unsure and probably a little intimidated. Flying can be daunting, especially for muggleborns who have never seen a flying broomstick outside their television sets. “Welcome to flying lessons,” he greets, stepping forward between the two rows of brooms. “My name is Professor Locksley and I don’t know any of your names yet, but I promise I’ll know them soon enough. We’ve got a lot to cover, so let’s get started. If you could all take a place beside a broom, please?”

They listen, thankfully, and twenty students decked in yellow or blue sort themselves into two neat rows. Or… make that, nineteen students decked in yellow or blue and one dressed in scarlet. At the far end of one line stands a small boy with curly brown hair and a red and gold scarf hanging around his neck. He’s awfully short for a first year and quite obviously not a Hufflepuff or Ravenclaw. Probably just got his schedule mixed up, Robin thinks as he makes his way over to the boy.

The lad is looking around at the other students brightly and when Robin approaches, he smiles, revealing two very deep dimples.

Robin squats down so he’s eye-level with the boy and sticks out his hand. “Hello. I’m Professor Locksley,” he introduces.

“Roland Knight,” the boy responds, shaking Robin’s hand with a surprisingly firm handshake, considering the size of his hands.

“Mr. Knight, nice to meet you,” Robin says. “You know, I can’t help but notice that you don’t seem to be in Hufflepuff or Ravenclaw.”

Roland shakes his head, curls flopping. “No, sir. I’m in Gryffindor.”

“Ah, so you’re one of Professor Mills’s students, then?”

“Yes, sir.”

“Well, I do believe you might have gotten your schedule a little mixed up. You see, I have Gryffindor and Slytherin first years after this. I think that is the class you’re supposed to be in.”

Roland shakes his head. “No, sir, I’m supposed to be here. I have History of Magic after this.”

Robin frowns. “You do?”

“Yes, sir.” Roland looks down at his feet. “I’m, uh, not a first year.”

“You’re not?” Robin asks.

“No, sir. I’m a second year,” Roland explains. “But I couldn’t take flying lessons last year because magical law says that you have to be at least eleven years old to operate a broomstick by yourself, and, well, I was only nine last year. So I couldn’t take the class. But I’m turning eleven in a month, and even though I’m technically still not old enough to operate a broom, Professor Mills asked Professor Merlin to make an exception for me. And he did, so here I am.”

“I see,” Robin replies. “Well, in that case, I’m glad you’re finally able to learn how to pilot a broom. You’ll find it to be great fun, I’m sure.”

Roland smiles. “Thank you, sir. I’m sure as well. And, uh, I’m sorry to tell you this, but… down with the Harriers!”

Robin chuckles. “You’re not a fan, huh?”

“Nope,” Roland answers. “Kill ‘em Quiberon!”

“The Quafflepunchers?” Robin exclaims, pressing a hand to his chest. “Oh, you  _ wound  _ me with that.”

Roland giggles. “They’re the best team in France.”

“Well, I can’t argue with you there, can I? They’ve won the French League quite a bit in a recent years, haven’t they?”

“Yes, sir. They said they should change the French flag to bleu, blanc, rouge, and rose!”

Robin chuckles again and then suddenly becomes aware that he has a class waiting for him to begin. He stands. “Well, Mr. Knight, I look forward to debating quidditch logistics with you in the future. You sound like you know what you’re talking about.”

Roland beams and stands up straighter. “Thank you, sir.

Robin smiles and then turns to walk to the front of the class, shaking his head slightly. That boy started Hogwarts when he was only nine years old? What could have possessed Merlin to think that was a good idea? He’s a second year, but he’s still younger than the majority of the incoming first years. Robin can only imagine the bullying and teasing he’s had to endure. 

Robin turns to face his class, making a mental note to ask Regina later about young Mr. Knight.

* * *

 

Alastor Gold is never welcome in Regina’s classroom. But he’s even less welcome in her classroom when he comes barrelling in at the tail end of class, as her students are still filing out the door, seething with anger.

“How  _ dare _ you!” he snaps, loud enough and vicious enough that several of Regina’s students stop and stare.

Regina turns from her chalkboard, slightly bewildered, but she manages to keep her face cool, unwilling to let herself be affected by him. She looks past Gold to her students who have stopped on their way out of the classroom. “I’m sure you all have classes to get to. Move along,” she orders, waiting until they’ve all gone to return her attention to the angry little man before her. “Your professionalism amazes me,” she intones, pulling her wand out to erase her chalkboard.

“And your hypocrisy amazes  _ me,”  _ Gold spits, knuckles white around the top of his walking stick. “You have no right-”

“I  _ have  _ no idea what you’re talking about,” Regina interrupts. “And I also have a class coming in in the next ten minutes, so whatever your temper tantrum is about, is going to have to wait.”

Gold scowls. “You know what I’m talking about. The Defense Against the Dark Arts position.”

“What about it?” Regina pretends, setting her wand down on her desk.

“Stop playing stupid. Professor Swan is leaving Hogwarts and she wants you to take over the Dark Arts position.”

“ _ Defense Against  _ the Dark Arts,” Regina corrects. “And I’m not supposed to comment on matters that are confidential.”

“Confidential, my ass,” Gold snaps. “The whole school knows about it and even if they don’t, they will soon enough. Rumors grow like Devil’s Snare here.”

“Oh, so you’re wasting my time yelling at me over a rumor?” Regina retorts. “Yes, your professionalism is truly quite amazing.”

Gold holds up a bony finger. “You stole my position from me once. I’m not going to let you do it again.”

Regina laughs mockingly. “Stole it from you? I didn’t steal anything. Merlin appointed me Potions madam. It’s not my fault he kicked you to Divination.”

“That-”

“And besides,” Regina interrupts. “You have no claim to the DADA position. Whoever fills it, won’t be stealing anything from you.”

“Oh, ‘whoever fills it,’ hm?” Gold echoes. “You say that like you don’t know.”

“I don’t know,” Regina defends. “Merlin will choose-”

“Merlin chose you,” Gold snaps. “And I’ll be damned if I let you get away with it.”

Regina rolls her eyes. “Dumbledore’s beard, you are so dramatic.”

“And you’re a liar,” Gold accuses. “You’re lying to me now, and if you take that position, you’ll be lying to the entire school.”

Regina narrows her eyes. “How dare you-”

“Don’t you deny it,” Gold nearly shouts. His jaw is shaking with anger. “I wonder, really, how the parents will react to knowing their children are being taught Defense Against the Dark Arts by someone like  _ you.” _

“Oh, and like you’re any better?” Regina half-yells, her voice tight with sudden fury. 

“I’m  _ worlds  _ better. And you know why?” Gold surges forward and grabs Regina’s arm before she can react, twisting it around and yanking down her sleeve. “Because I don’t have  _ this _ branded on my skin!”

A black skull and snake, faded over time, stare mockingly up at Regina, sinister and dark, shouting to the room who she truly is. Her skin burns.

Regina grabs her wand off her desk with her free hand and points it at Gold’s head. “Let go of me. Now.”

Gold’s upper lip twitches with fury as he stares her down. Tense seconds stretch farther apart, threatening to snap, and Gold’s fingers flex around the top of his cane. Regina pushes her wand closer to his forehead and after a moment, his hand relaxes around the top of his cane, his wand untouched for now. He squeezes her arm and then pushes it back toward her with disgust. Regina doesn’t lower her wand.

“You may have this whole school fooled,” Gold hisses, voice dangerously even and low. “But you can’t fool me. I know who you were, who you are, and who you always will be. You’d be wise to remember that.”

Regina’s eyes narrow. “Get out of my classroom,” she orders, never breaking eye contact. “Threaten me again, and I won’t just hold up my wand. You’d be wise to remember that.”

Gold glares, long and cold, and then slowly turns away, hobbling out of her classroom without another word.

When he’s gone, Regina lowers her wand and then throws it across the room. It bounces off an ingredients cabinet and clatters to the floor. She clenches her hands into fists, squeezing until her blood vessels throb. She grabs an empty potions vial off her desk and throws it against the closest wall, sending glass shards everywhere. How dare he… how dare he come in here and… and… say everything to her that she’s been saying to herself all day. 

And that’s true, isn’t? And that’s why it’s so infuriating, isn’t it? He knows. He knows every self-loathing thought she could possibly have and he spits it in her face. Because he wants the DADA position and when Alastor Gold wants something, he doesn’t let anything get in his way. And she’s in his way.

Regina slams her palms down on her desk and resists the urge to kick her chair. She  _ can’t  _ be the Defense Against the Dark Arts professor. But she can’t let Gold be it, either. Surely there’s someone else…

But Emma wanted her. And if she passed it up, and someone else got it, Gold would accuse her of being a coward. And she is not a coward, not for someone like Gold, not for anyone. 

She looks around her classroom, at her Potions ingredients and vials and recipes. She’s comfortable here. She loves it here. But comfort and love are dangerous in the hands of someone like Gold, and he’s threatening to squeeze until she crumbles.

She crumbled before. She won’t again.

Regina straightens promptly and retrieves her wand. She has five minutes until class. That’s all she needs. She hurries out of her classroom and heads down the corridor, turning a corner and climbing a set of stairs. Emma’s door is open, so she walks right in.

“Yes,” Regina says without preamble, striding toward the front of the room.

Emma looks up from her desk. “Yes, what?”

Regina exhales shortly as she stops in front of Emma’s desk. “Yes, I’ll be the Defense Against the Dark Arts professor.”

Emma’s face splits into a smile. “You will?”

Regina nods. “Yes. I want to do it.”

Emma stands and holds out her hand for Regina to shake. “Well, thank Dumbledore for that. Merlin will be thrilled.” She comes around her desk, still smiling. “What changed your mind?”

“Someone told me I couldn’t do it,” Regina answers. “I’m going to prove them wrong.”

Emma pushes her lightly on the shoulder. “Sounds like my kind of answer. You got some time? Let’s go tell Merlin.”

She has class in five… four minutes, but she’s in a ‘fuck it’ kind of mood, so she figures ‘fuck it,’ her students can wait two minutes. She follows Emma out of her classroom and heads for Merlin’s office, ignoring the pain as the mark on her forearm burns.


	4. Chapter 4

_ Henry is going to fall. He’s seven years old, and he’s riding a bike, and he’s going to fall. If someone would just tell him to  _ slow down,  _ then maybe he wouldn’t, but no one is going to tell him that and so he’s going to fall. _

_ Regina watches him through the mirror with bated breath, subconsciously squeezing her fist together as one would a hand brake on a bicycle. _

_ Henry skitters around a corner, little legs pumping as he flies down the sidewalk. The bike is a bit too small for him, since it’s his cousin’s old one, and so his knees hit the handlebars every so often, but it does nothing to slow him down. Unfortunately. _

_ At least he’s wearing a helmet. He should be wearing elbow pads and knee pads too, but of course no one paid close enough attention to tell him that. _

_ He skids around another corner, but too sharply and too quickly and his wheels skid as his bike turns over, knocking him to the concrete. _

_ Regina inhales sharply, heart beating fast as she watches, fist clenched tight around the edge of the mirror. If his blasted aunt and uncle would only pay attention to him for once, maybe he wouldn’t get hurt so often- _

_ Henry sits up and inspects his hands, flexing them a few times before looking down at his knee. He has a bright red scrape on one of them, dirt flecking his skin. _

_ Regina winces at the sight of it. That’ll sting in the bathtub tonight. _

_ Henry blows air on his wound, presumably to get the dirt out of it, but as he blows, the most remarkable- to Henry, anyway- thing happens. The scrape slowly shimmers away into nothing, leaving only unmarked skin behind. _

_ Henry blinks at it in confusion, ducking his head to get a closer look and running his hand over his knee as if to prove that the scrape is really gone. _

_ Regina allows herself a small smile. Daniel’s boy has the makings of a great wizard already. _

_ Seemingly satisfied with his now scrape-free knee, Henry stands and rights his bike, swinging a leg over the seat and pressing his feet to the pedals, pushing off at a noticeably slower pace. _

_ Regina exhales and looks up at the clock. A class will be coming in soon. She waves her wand over the mirror and the image of Henry riding his bike shimmers away into a simple reflection. She places the mirror back in her desk drawer and then stands to gather the ingredients her students will need for class. _

* * *

 

Regina never got detention in school. If she ever did, not even her worst nightmares would compare to how Mother would have reacted. Daniel and Robin, now, they were never  _ not  _ in detention, it seemed. Will would usually weasel his way out of punishment, but Daniel and Robin never managed to be so clever. They probably swept more corridors as punishment in their time at Hogwarts than Mr. Grump ever did.

Regina used to think detention was for bad students. But Henry Colter and Roland Knight get detention more than any of her other Gryffindors (with the exception of Mr. Booth) and she would never classify them as bad students. Misguided, yes. And overwhelmed, certainly. But not bad. Nothing good ever came of telling a child he or she is bad, and Dumbledore knows those two have lived the majority of their lives thinking they are bad.

So detention, as often as Colter and Knight get it, is not a punishment intended to shame or guilt. At least, not when Regina handles it. It’s intention should be to make a student recognize what they did was wrong in order to stop the behavior from continuing in the future. And with that philosophy in mind, Regina believes she has come up with the perfect detention for Mr. Colter and Mr. Knight.

“Are you  _ sure _ the Whomping Willow is mentioned in this book?” Roland asks, flipping through the several hundreds of pages he has yet to read of  _ Hogwarts: A History _ .

“Oh, I’m quite sure, Mr. Knight,” Regina answers without looking up from her paperwork. “You just have to keep reading.”

Roland blows out an exasperated breath and drops his forehead down to the faded page in front of him.

Regina smiles to herself and looks to her right. “How are you coming along, Mr. Colter?”

Henry jumps slightly at his name and he hastily looks down at the open law book in front of him. “Uh, nothing yet, professor,” he stammers. “There’s, uh, a lot more magical law about invisibility spells than I thought.”

“Mm, and it’s quite riveting to read about, isn’t it?”

Henry nods brightly. “Oh, yes, professor. It’s, uh, fascinating.”

Regina smiles. “Yes, I'm sure both your essays on the subjects will be just as fascinating.”

Henry musters a half-grin that falls into a grimace as he turns back to his book.

Regina laughs internally as she turns back to her work- an inventory list that she really should have gone over before the start of the year. She knows what ingredients are in her cabinets and how much of everything she has, so she hadn’t bothered to update her inventories, but if she’s going to be handing over her stores to someone else, she wants to make sure they know what they’re getting. 

She frowns at the ‘10’ written next to Lacewing flies. She definitely has more than ten vials of Lacewing flies. She made sure to stock up for her NEWT students since they will be attempting to brew Polyjuice Potion over the course of the semester and they will most likely mess up a few times before getting it right-

“May I be excused to the lavatory, professor?” Henry asks.

“Yes, Mr. Colter, you may,” Regina permits. “If Grump gives you any trouble, direct him to me.”

Henry nods and pushes back from his desk, chair legs scraping against the stone floor. He scampers out of the room and Roland watches longingly after him, eyes lingering on the open door.

“Wishing for the time to pass quicker won’t make it so, Mr. Knight,” Regina quips without looking up.

Another exasperated sigh is the answer she receives.

Regina fights a smile. One of the things she likes about Roland Knight is his spirited attitude. Despite his hard life, he’s managed to go through it with a smile. He might be little, but his spunk is big and never has she seen him back down from something. A month’s detention has apparently done little to dampen his feistiness. 

A knock draws Regina’s attention and she looks up to see Robin standing in the doorway, smile on his face. Her stomach turns over. “Robin,” she says, tucking a piece of hair behind her ear. “What are you doing here?”

“Can I come in for a second?” he asks, eyes shifting to Roland. “If I’m not interrupting, of course.”

“Oh, no, you’re not interrupting,” Regina insists, waving him in, like an idiot. Why is she letting him in? “Mr. Knight is just serving detention with me.”

Robin looks at Roland in exaggerated shock as he enters the room. “Roland Knight in detention?” he exclaims. “Well, who would have thought? And here I was under the impression you were a model student.” He winks in the boy’s direction.

Roland looks over at Regina, unsure about his place in the conversation.

“Oh, Mr. Knight is a fine student,” Regina replies, looking at her student sideways. “He just makes some… misguided decisions from time to time. Isn’t that right, Mr. Knight?”

“Uh… yes, professor,” Roland agrees with a nod, curls flopping in his face.

Robin smirks. “I’m just messing with you, lad. I spent a bit of time in detention myself.”

“A bit?” Regina echoes. “I’d say that is an understatement.”

“Okay,  _ quite  _ a bit,” Robin amends. He winks at Regina. “Professor Mills here never helped me get out of it, either.”

“You deserved what you got,” Regina returns, eyebrows arching. “Some of the stunts you pulled-”

“I liked to keep things interesting here at old Hogwarts,” Robin explains to Roland. “Something Professor Mills never approved of.”

“You were friends in school?” Roland asks, eyes wide as he looks between his two professors.

“Yes, we were,” Regina says. “Does that surprise you?”

Roland looks down, a little sheepish. “Well… kinda, professor.”

“Why?”

“It’s just… you don’t really seem like you would be friends,” Roland answers carefully. “Ma’am.”

Robin chuckles. “I’ll give you that. But Professor Mills is the only reason I passed any of my classes, if we’re being honest.” He leans toward Roland, dropping his voice to a conspiratorial whisper. “She was a bit of a nerd.”

“Now  _ that  _ I believe,” Roland laughs.

Regina raises an eyebrow as she looks down at him, lips pursing. “I think that’s quite enough from you tonight, Mr. Knight. You are excused.”

Roland closes his book enthusiastically. “Thank you, professor.” He moves to put his book away, but Regina stops him.

“I’ll take care of your books. If you see your co-pilot on your way back to your dormitory, you may tell him he is excused as well. I’ll see you both tomorrow.”

Roland nods and stands, pushing in his chair. “Yes, Professor Mills. Good night, Professor Locksley.”

“Good night, lad,” Robin calls after him as Roland leaves the room. He waits a second and then turns back to Regina. “Co-pilot?”

She scoffs. “Oh, you haven’t heard about the car incident?”

Robin furrows his brow. “Car incident… you mean that flying car that was spotted over London the other day?”

Regina nods. “Yep. That one.”

Robin blinks. “Roland was the one responsible for that?”

“Unfortunately,” Regina sighs. “Honestly, I don't know where he comes up with stuff like that.”

“The creative minds of children,” Robin says with a laugh. “Who knows how they think what they do.”

“If only they would use their creative minds for schoolwork and not troublesome activities,” Regina sighs.

“Grump didn't give me any problems, profess- oh, I'm sorry, I didn't mean to interrupt,” Henry says as he comes into the room, stopping when he sees Robin.

“No worries, Mr. Colter,” Regina replies. “I already dismissed Mr. Knight. You are excused for the evening.”

He nods and then eyes Robin up and down curiously. “Um, hi.”

Regina frowns, thinking that was a bit rude, but then she looks over at Robin and understands Henry's discomfort. He's looking at Henry- gaping, more like it- with a mix of amazement and wonder, and Regina’s stomach flips over again. Fuck. This is the first time they’re seeing each other in eleven years, something that Henry won’t even remember and something that Robin will remember with reverence. She should defuse this potential disaster before-

“Well, damn me,” Robin breathes, shaking his head, laughing in disbelief. “Like father, like son, huh?”

Henry’s eyes shoot back over to Regina in alarm. “Um… what-”

Robin shakes his head again, evidently collecting himself. “I beg your pardon,” he says. “I don’t mean to be crass, it’s just…” He smiles and takes a step forward, holding out his hand. “Henry, I’m Robin Locksley. I can’t believe it’s been so long.”

Henry looks to Regina again, eyes wide and uncertain. “Professor?”

Regina bristles on Henry’s behalf. “I think you’re scaring him, Professor Locksley,” she says tersely.

Robin startles at that. “Oh, I’m sorry, Iad, I didn’t mean to frighten you” He holds up a hand. “Let me start again. My name is Robin Locksley and your father and I, we were friends.”

Henry tilts his head at that. “You were?” he asks, curiosity replacing his uncertainty.

Robin nods. “Best friends,” he confirms. “We were in school together.”

Henry looks over at Regina. “You were in school with my father too, weren’t you, Professor Mills?”

Regina nods shortly, tongue suddenly weighed down with an unnamed irritation, an anger flaring up from somewhere old and buried.

“We were all friends,” Robin continues. “And we all fought against You Know Who together.”

“Really?” Henry marvels, regarding Robin with new fascination. He takes a few steps forward and holds out his own hand, a gesture that has Robin grinning from ear to ear as they shake. “How come I’ve never met you before?”

“Well, we have met. You just don’t remember it because you were a baby. But I guess that doesn’t really count, does it?”

Henry shakes his head. “I’ve met a lot of people who said they knew me when I was a baby. Or knew my parents. They all kind of blend together eventually.”

“I bet,” Robin agrees. “Your parents were quite famous when they died, and even more famous after. I’d imagine a lot of people suddenly remembered how good of friends they were with Daniel and Tink.” He pauses and looks Henry over. “I know you’re probably tired of hearing this, but you look exactly like your father. Except for your eyes. You have-”

“My mother’s eyes,” Henry finishes. “Yes, I know.”

Robin smiles, small and sad. “I know they’d be proud of you. Incredibly proud.”

Henry practically beams and Regina suddenly knows where her anger is coming from. What does Robin know about Henry? Other than the fact that he wears his father’s hair and his mother’s eyes, what could he possibly know about him? How would he know that Daniel would be proud of his son? He, of course, absolutely would be, but what gives Robin the sudden authority to make that judgement? He doesn’t know that Henry earned an A- on his Potions final last term or that he is the leading Seeker among all the House teams or that he helped win the House Cup for Gryffindor last year. He doesn’t know any of that and yet suddenly he gets to walk in here and act like he knows Daniel would be proud of him?

Regina knows all the things Henry has done. She  _ knows  _ Daniel would be proud of him because she’s been here for all of it. Robin has not.

Regina clenches her jaw. The smile on Henry’s face- such a rare sight, an expression she’s only seen him wear on a few occasions- only inflames her further.

“I hear you’re on the Gryffindor quidditch team?” Robin is saying, oblivious to Regina’s mounting anger.

“Yeah, I’m the Seeker,” Henry answers, looking over at Regina. “Professor Mills handpicked me for the spot.”

“Wow, what an honor,” Robin praises, smiling at Regina. 

She manages something of a half-grimace in return.

“I guess I’ll be seeing you on the pitch, then?” Robin continues, looking back to Henry.

“Yes, sir.”

“Well, I look forward to it.” Robin holds out his hand. “It was wonderful seeing you again, Henry. If you ever need anything, you know where to find me.”

Henry shakes his hand. “Thank you, professor. It was nice meeting you.” He turns back to Regina. “Good night, Professor Mills. I’ll see you tomorrow.”

Regina gathers herself enough to nod once. “Good night, Mr. Colter.”

Henry turns and leaves, and Regina takes a few deep breaths, trying to keep her boiling blood at bay.

“Well, damn me,” Robin marvels, shaking his head. “I didn’t know he looked so much like Dan.”

Regina bites down on her tongue.  _ If you had been here to watch him grow up, you would have known.  _ “Yes, well, he certainly has his father’s personality as well,” she manages, standing up from her chair. She walks over to Roland’s vacated desk and picks up his book.

Robin chuckles. “A scoundrel, huh?”

Regina breathes deeply again and hums a noncommittal response.

After a moment, Robin sighs. “I imagine it can’t be easy for him.”

Regina shakes her head, turning away to reshelve Henry and Roland’s books before Robin notices her scowl.  _ Imagine how much easier it would be for him if he had someone to guide him. _ “He’s a remarkable boy,” she says. “He handles it very well.”

Robin nods. “I’m sure living with his horrid aunt and uncle doesn’t help.”

_ He wouldn’t have to live with his horrid aunt and uncle if you hadn’t run away to the other side of Europe,  _ Regina wants to snap, but she bites her tongue. “Yes, well, they were the only ones left who could care for him,” she settles on, taking a bit longer than necessary to find the books’ rightful places.

There’s a weighted pause and she can practically feel the implication of her words settle over Robin. “Right,” he says after a long moment.

She waits a second longer before turning back around, letting the silence linger, feeling an odd sense of satisfaction at showing even a lick of her irritation. “Did you need something?” she asks, blowing out a breath, shaking off whatever funk they were about to fall into.

Robin quirks his eyebrows and shakes his head once, regrouping. “Yeah. I finally found the quidditch practice schedules,” he says, reaching into his robes pocket. He pulls out a folded piece of paper and holds it out toward her. “Merida had said you’d like a copy.”

“I would, yes,” Regina replies, reaching out and taking the page. “Thank you.”

“No problem.”

Another silence falls between them and it stretches out, growing thinner and thinner, threatening to snap. Regina looks down at the paper and then over at her desk, back to her cabinets, down to her shoes, at the fire crackling in the fireplace.

Robin shoves his hands in his pockets and looks down at his feet for a moment before looking back up. “Why is this suddenly weird?” he asks.

Regina glances up at him. “What do you mean?” she evades.

He gestures between them. “This. Us,” he explains. “I know it’s been awhile, but I’m getting the impression you haven’t exactly been thrilled to see me.”

Regina shakes her head. “That’s not… I mean, I was just wasn’t expecting-”

“Regina,” he interrupts with a look. “I always knew when you were lying. Eleven years hasn’t changed that.”

Regina purses her lips. “But it’s changed pretty much everything else, hasn’t it?” she snaps before she can stop herself.

Robin tilts his head, taken aback. “What are you talking about?”

Regina closes her eyes and blows out a slow breath. “Eleven years,” she says. “That’s how long it’s been. Do you know how much happens in eleven years? A whole hell of a lot.” She pauses, and Robin stays silent, watching her. She looks away. “Where did you go? After we buried Daniel and Tink, where did you go?”

“Regina, what-”

“Where. Did. You. Go,” she repeats.

Robin stares at her for a long moment, expression unreadable. “I went to France,” he finally answers. “I had to get away-”

“And after that?” Regina interrupts. “Where did you go after that?”

“Spain.”

“And then?”

“Germany.”

“Germany,” Regina echoes. “And you’ve been there ever since, haven’t you?”

Robin doesn’t answer.

“And all the while, I’ve been here,” she continues, gesturing around her room. “I’ve been here. Alone. Without Daniel, without Will, without you. Daniel is dead. Will is dead. And you left. You left me.”

Robin shakes his head. “Regina-”

“You left me to pick up the pieces,” she goes on. “My entire life was  _ shattered _ . Everything I knew was destroyed. I didn’t have anyone, or anything, and I was alone.” She blinks, frustrated that tears are burning behind her eyes. “Merlin offered me a job at Hogwarts and I didn’t want to take it. I didn’t think I deserved to take it. But I didn’t have anything else and I didn’t know what else to do, so I took it. And here I am, eleven years later. Still standing. Still here.” She points to herself. “I put the pieces back together. Without you. And you don’t get to come waltzing back in here and try to fit yourself back into the puzzle.”

“Regina, I didn’t know-”

“I know you didn’t,” she interjects. “And how could you?  _ You weren’t here _ .” She pauses, breathing hard, and looks away for a moment before looking back. “Why did you leave?”

Robin exhales, looking down. “I needed… I needed time. Away from everything that happened and I couldn’t stay here, not with Daniel and Will-”

“So you ran away,” Regina fills in. “You ran away from me. From Henry. For Dumbledore’s sake, he’s your  _ godson,  _ Robin.”

“I know-”

“Do you?” Regina asks, voice rising in pitch. “Do you know how much he needed you? How much he  _ still  _ needs you? The muggles he lives with, his family, they’re  _ horrible  _ to him. For the first decade of his life, he lived in a cupboard under the stairs. Until he came to Hogwarts, he spent his whole life thinking he was unwanted. He was unloved.” She looks away. “And take it from someone who knows- that feeling never goes away.”

Robin looks up at that. “Regina, please, let me explain.”

“You don’t have to,” she says. “You already have, haven’t you? You needed time. Away from me and away from Henry, and that’s what you got. You got your time and now you want to come back here and come back into my life, back into his, and think that everything will be fine. Well, it won’t be fine. Nothing has been fine since the day Daniel died, and you suddenly appearing on a broomstick won’t change that.”

Robin shakes his head. “Regina, I didn’t come back to Hogwarts because I thought I could come back into your life. I didn’t even know you were here.”

Regina’s knuckles go white at that. “And where did you think I was?” she seethes. “Azkaban? Dead? Or did you just not care enough to find out?”

“I thought you left too,” Robin explains, a spot of hurt flickering through his eyes. “I thought you would have needed to get away too.”

“And leave Henry?” she nearly whispers, stricken at the mere thought. She shakes her head slowly. “Never. He’d already lost everyone else. I wasn’t going to abandon him too.”

“I didn’t abandon him-”

“Then what would you call it?” Regina demands. “Abandonment, running away, leaving him to fend for himself? For Dumbledore’s sake, Robin, he doesn’t even know who you are! You were his father’s best friend and the boy doesn’t even know you!”

“I intend to fix that,” Robin asserts passionately. “As soon as I found out Henry was here, I made a promise to myself and to Daniel that I would be in his life, in whatever capacity he wants.” He looks away. “And the moment I saw you, I promised myself that I would try to do right by you this time. That I would be here for you, and that’s what I’m trying to do.”

He looks back up. “I know I wasn’t here back then, but I’m trying to make up for it by being here now. For you and for Henry.”

Regina studies him for a long moment, gaze flicking back and forth between his eyes. They’re the same blue as they were eleven years ago, as they have been the entire time she’s known him. So deep, so sincere, always searching for something. And what’s he searching for now? Forgiveness? Acceptance? A second chance? 

She’s hit with a memory of him, of the two of them back when they were students, laughing in the Great Hall over something funny Daniel had said. The world had been so simple back then. No Dark Lords and  Dark Marks. No mudbloods and purebloods. No Orders, no curses, no drops of blood spilt between them. Just friends, just them, just something good.

She’s hit with another memory, of herself, by herself, standing alone in the rain in front of two fresh gravestones, the disturbed earth muddy beneath her feet. The world was different then. No Daniel and no Robin. No Will and no Henry. No family, no home, no light anywhere. Just her, just alone, just something broken. 

And for years that what it was, and still is, because she was alone, and still is, and that’s not something that can change overnight. That’s not something that will ever change.

Regina shakes her head slowly and looks up at Robin sadly. “Too late,” she whispers. She picks up her papers, and walks out of her classroom, ignoring Robin’s call of her name as she goes.


	5. Chapter 5

_“Hey, how do you shoot a Mills in the heart?”_

_Regina’s grip on her quill tightens as the mocking voice floats across the courtyard._

_“I don’t know. How?”_

_“You can’t. Because none of them have one!”_

_The group of boys bursts into laughter and Regina’s lips go white as she purses them together, trying her hardest not to listen. She has NEWTs in a few weeks. She needs to focus on studying, not on the oafish amusement of some pig-headed neanderthals._

_“Shove off.”_

_Regina looks up at the sound of the new voice, straightening when she sees Robin staring down at the boy who made the joke._

_“What? It’s funny, Locksley,” the boy defends. “Lighten up.”_

_“I don’t find making fun of people amusing,” Robin snaps. “And I think you should refrain from talking about things that you know nothing about.”_

_The boy holds up innocent hands and makes a face, earning a glare from Robin, but no further words. Robin watches as the group walks away, and then turns in the direction of Regina._

_She ducks her head and looks back down at her books, trying very hard to be invisible as his footsteps get louder the closer he approaches._

_His shadow falls across the table. “Regina,” he says._

_She looks up slowly, meets his eyes, and then looks away. She clears her throat. “Robin,” she mumbles._

_“You okay?”_

_Regina plasters an annoyed smile on her face. “Of course. Why wouldn’t I be okay?”_

_Robin exhales as he looks at her. She avoids his gaze._

_“I haven’t seen you at dinner in awhile.”_

_She shrugs. “I’ve been busy.”_

_“Regina, you’re not hanging out with Mal and Cruella again, are you?”_

_Regina looks up, glaring. “So what if I am?”_

_Robin raises his eyebrows. “You know they’re bad news.”_

_Regina rolls her eyes. “You just don’t like them.”_

_“Yeah, because they’re bad news.”_

_“Well it’s not like I have anyone else to hang out with, do I?” Regina snaps, slapping her textbook closed. She stands and gathers her things. “You don’t have to pretend like you care, Robin. I know you don’t.” She moves to walk away, but Robin shoots a hand out and grabs her arm._

_“That’s not true,” he counters vehemently._

_Regina narrows her eyes and shrugs him off. “Does Daniel want to talk to me yet?”_

_Robin looks down and sighs. “No, but Regina, you have to understand-”_

_“Oh, I understand alright,” she seethes. “I understand just fine. He doesn’t care. He never did. And neither do you. I said you can stop pretending now.”_

_She turns and stalks away, wiping furiously at a tear that traitorously falls down her cheek, and not bothering to see the way Robin blinks to keep his own in check._

* * *

 

Drinking at breakfast is probably frowned upon at Hogwarts. It’s probably frowned upon at most places, honestly, but it’s most definitely frowned upon at Hogwarts.

Robin couldn’t care less.

Not two seconds after sitting down at the Head Table, he takes a cautionary glance around to make sure no one is watching and then pulls a metal flask from his inner robes pocket. He reaches for the empty mug in front of him, waits for it to magically fill with coffee, and then pours a generous dollop of whiskey into his cup. He tucks the flask back into his robes pocket, securing it with a pat of his hand. Probably going to need that to get through the day. He swirls a spoon through his spiked brew and brings the mug to his lips, content with starting the day off on a morally questionable foot.

“That’s probably not a good idea.”

Robin pauses just as he’s about to take a sip and looks to his left. “Belle,” he says, setting his mug back down. “I didn’t see you there.”

Professor French offers a knowing grin as she takes the vacant seat beside him, cobalt robes swishing around the chair legs. She looks the same as she did when they were students together, same bright eyes and kind smile. Belle was quiet in school, but brilliant, and Robin had the good fortune of being partnered with her for a Charms assignment in their third year. An unlikely friendship has connected them ever since, even when Belle was away in France, leading the fight against You Know Who across the Channel.

“Has the job gotten that stressful already?” she asks, reaching for the refilling bowl of strawberries on the table.

“Uh, not the job, no,” Robin evades, staring down at his untouched sausage and eggs. His new teaching duties are surprisingly the _least_ stressful thing about his life at the moment. He glances down the table and can’t help but notice (for the fifth time) that Regina’s chair is empty.

“Something else, then?” Belle prompts as she spoons fruit onto her plate.

Robin nods reluctantly. “Yeah, something else.”

Belle sets the bowl back in its rightful place and then turns to look at him, eyebrow raised, waiting.

Robin sighs and scratches his head. “I… fucked up. Big time.”

“What’d you do? Put the snitches in the same box as the bludgers?”

Robin rolls his eyes, smiling. “Ha ha,” he returns.

Belle laughs, seemingly happy with getting a grin out of him.

“No, I did something a little bit worse than that,” Robin admits, running his finger up and down the handle of his mug. He hasn’t been able to get Regina’s face out of his mind, the hurt in her eyes, the years of hidden pain, pain _he_ caused, shining through. All this time, he had no idea how much she was hurting, how alone she felt, that she thought he abandoned her. If he had known, if he had any idea what she was going through, he would have come back in a heartbeat. But he didn’t, and he’s an idiot, and he’s inadvertently ruined one of the few good things left in his life.

“I hurt someone,” Robin settles on. “A lot. And… I don’t really think there’s much I can do to fix it.”

Belle nods slowly, chewing thoughtfully on a strawberry. “Is that because you think the person you hurt won’t forgive you? Or that what you did is so bad there’s nothing you can do to make up for it?”

Robin blows out a breath. “Both, I guess,” he sighs.

“I can’t see you doing anything that bad, Robin,” Belle says.

“Oh, you’d be surprised,” he mutters. Leaving someone to wallow in pain alone for over a decade is probably at the top of most people’s lists of The Worst Things Someone Could Possibly Do. Robin shakes his head. “Don’t worry about it. I screwed up and now I have to live with it. And that’s no one’s fault but my own.”

Belle squeezes his forearm. “Robin, I don’t know what you did, but I do know you. And you’re a good person. When you make a mistake, you’ll do everything you can to make up for it. And sometimes that’s all you can do.”

Robin nods sullenly. “Yeah. You’re right.” But where does he even start with a fuck up this big?

Luckily, he doesn’t have to dwell on that question for too long. A young girl with brown hair and a Gryffindor crest on her robes approaches the Head Table, offering a “Good morning, Professors Nolan,” to David and Mary Margaret as she passes on her way to stopping in front of Belle. “Good morning, Professor French,” she greets. She turns her eyes on Robin. “And… Professor Locksley?”

“Good guess,” Robin says with a grin.

“Did you need something, Miss Kaylor?” Belle asks.

The girl nods. “Yes, ma’am. I was doing the reading for class, and I noticed some inaccuracies on the section about the first Ogre War. Particularly about the involvement of Hippogriffs in the wizard war effort. I was hoping we could discuss some of the points in class today?”

Belle tilts her head. “Miss Kaylor, we’re not getting to the Ogre Wars until next week. We’re still on the Era of Progression.”

The girl looks puzzled for a moment and then recognition dawns on her face. “Oh my goodness, you’re right! I’m so sorry, I must have gotten too far ahead in the syllabus. I apologize.”

“It’s perfectly alright,” Belle assures her. “How about you write down the parts you disagree with, and when we get to the topic next week, we’ll go over it?”

“Okay, ma’am. Thank you,” the girl says, turning to leave.

Robin waits until she’s halfway back to her House table before laughing. “Well, would you look at that? It’s a mini you,” he teases Belle, earning himself an eyeroll.

“Oh, stop. Miss Kaylor just loves learning.”

“And you? Pretty sure you were just a nerd,” Robin digs. He chuckles as Belle swats at his arm, but he stops when he looks back up to see the girl sitting down next to two familiar faces. “That girl… she’s friends with Henry and Roland?” Robin asks.

Belle follows his gaze. “Oh, yes. The three of them are peas in a pod. Miss Kaylor is the only reason Mr. Colter and Mr. Knight ever get any work done.”

“Kaylor… I don’t recognize that last name.”

Belle shakes her head. “She’s muggleborn. Violet’s her first name. Her father is a postman and her mother _was_ a school teacher, but she died a long time ago. Car accident, if I remember correctly.”

“Well, that’s a shame,” Robin tisks. “She’s very intelligent, I take it?”

“Oh, extremely. She’s the brightest witch of her age,” Belle praises. “I wish more of my students had her work ethic.”

Robin nods absently as he watches Violet reach across the table and wipe a spot of something off Roland’s cheek. He makes a face at her and Henry says something, making the three of them erupt into giggles. Robin smiles wistfully, thinking of the days when he sat at that very table, laughing with his own friends. How long ago that seems.

“How did the three of them wind up being friends?” Robin asks. “They don’t really seem like they… fit together, I guess.”

“They’re interesting, the three of them,” Belle answers. “Mr. Knight’s so young. It was very hard for him to adjust to being in school with peers almost two years older than him. And Miss Kaylor’s so bright, a lot of people make fun of her. And Mr. Colter… well, you can imagine how hard it would be for him to make friends. What, with everyone knowing who he is and all.” She takes a sip of her coffee. “So I guess you could say they fit together because they don’t really fit anywhere else.”

“Huh. I can’t decide if that’s sweet, or a little sad.”

“I think that’s how we all feel,” Belle sighs. “Especially Regina.”

“Oh yeah?” Robin says nonchalantly, eager for any information about how she’s gotten on in the time he’s been away.

Belle nods. “She’s very protective of them. Particularly of Henry. But, well, it makes sense. He’s Daniel’s son, after all.”

A lick of guilt lashes through Robin’s stomach. Yeah, he’s Daniel’s son alright. And Robin’s own godson. And neither one of them have been around to watch him grow up. Daniel has an excuse, obviously, and though Regina might not think so, Robin has his reasons. And they were good reasons. At least, at the time they seemed like good reasons. But as he watches Henry laugh at something Roland said with a smile so like Daniel’s, all those reasons suddenly seem unimportant. And he’s left to wonder, how could he have fucked up so badly? And more importantly, how can he possibly make up for it now?

* * *

 

Regina’s itchy.

If she didn’t know any better, she’d assume she’s allergic to the odd variety of plants cascading down the side of one of Emma’s cabinets, but she does know better and she knows that isn’t what’s causing her to break out into hives. It’s the pure and utter _chaos_ that is Emma Swan’s storage closet. If she thought her classroom was bad, she never could have imagined the horrors that lurk behind the closed doors in the rear of the classroom.

She’s not sure if she wants to scratch all her skin off or sneeze until her nose splits in two. She’ll probably end up doing both.

“Okay,” Emma announces breathlessly as she pops up from behind a stack of unnamed boxes. “It’s been a little while since I’ve gone through everything-”

“Yeah, I can see that,” Regina mutters, glancing around. Crates and bins containing all sorts of unidentifiable and questionable objects line the shelves of two very crammed bookcases, one of which is partially covered by different kinds of vines and flora that Regina can’t name for the life of her. The floor is littered with papers and books and broken bits of who knows what, most of which is pushed to either side to create a crude kind of pathway. On top of one of the shelves sits an empty wire cage, and Regina can’t tell if she’s relieved no creature lives there or concerned that perhaps something creepy and crawly has found its way out.

“Okay, not all of us can be as neat and tidy as you, Mills,” Emma retorts. She puts her hands on her hips and looks around. “I mean, I know what _most_ of this stuff is-”

“Most of it?”

“Well, some of the stuff I just kind of found in various places around the castle or on my travels, and I haven’t really had time to examine it yet.”

“Am I going to get killed by some strange cactus from India if I stick my hand into one of those bins?” Regina jokes.

Alarmingly, Emma makes a face as if she’s seriously considering the question. “Hmm… I don’t think so. I didn’t bring any plants back from India.”

Regina rubs her forehead, sighing. “Okay. To make myself feel better, I’m just going to assume I’m not.”

Emma laughs. “Don’t worry, Mills. I’m not in the habit of collecting things that kill people. I teach _Defense_ Against the Dark Arts.”

It’s a joke, but it reminds Regina of all the reasons why she was hesitant to take this job in the first place, and so she looks away, eager to change the subject and avoid any flares of self-doubt that might be threatening to surface. “Right. So, are you particularly attached to any of this, or can I throw away all the stuff I don’t need?”

Emma pouts. “You want to throw my stuff away?”

“Well, not _all_ of it…” Regina explains, walking over to one of the shelves. She pulls out a stack of books tied together with twine. “But why would I need seven copies of _Quidditch Through the Ages_ to teach DADA?”

Emma pounces forward and snatches the books from Regina’s hand. “You are _not_ throwing these away!”

“Why not?” Regina asks, dropping her hand to her side now that it’s empty.

“Because they are _limited edition,”_ Emma exclaims, clutching the volumes to her chest. “And half of them are _signed.”_

“If they’re so special, why are they gathering dust in your storage closet?”

“Where else am I supposed to put them?”

“Oh, I don’t know… maybe an actual bookcase?” Regina returns sarcastically. “Like in your room where you can make sure they don’t get ruined by whatever the hell you have hidden away in here?”

“Hmm… good point,” Emma muses, running her fingers over the cover of the top book. “They would look pretty good in my office at the Ministry, wouldn’t they?”

“Oh, they’d be the starring attraction of the Department of Magical Law Enforcement,” Regina says with an eyeroll.

Emma glares at her good naturedly, but then her eyes pop open wide. “Hey! Do you think Robin would sign one of them?”

 _Oh yes, let’s go there_ , Regina grumbles to herself. “How should I know?” she deflects, a little snippy.

“Well, I just thought since you guys are friends-”

“We’re not friends,” Regina interrupts firmly, and evidently a bit too harshly.

Emma raises her eyebrows. “Oh, aren’t you now? Because Killian told me the two of you were very chummy back in the day.”

“Killian doesn’t know what the hell he’s talking about,” Regina snipes. “And he should mind his own damn business.”

“Mills, all he said was that you guys were good friends. I just thought you’d still be.”

“Yes, well. We’re not.”

Emma looks at her for a long moment and then turns and sets the quidditch books back on the shelf. She spins back around, hand cocked on her hip. “What happened?”

“Nothing hap-”

“Mills,” Emma stops her, leveling her with a raised eyebrow. “You know better to bullshit me. You’ve been all weird about Robin since he’s gotten here. What’s up?”

“I said nothing.”

“And I said you’re lying.”

“Well, I’m not.”

“Yes, you are.”

They have a staredown for a minute, neither one of them willing to give in, but finally Regina huffs and looks away. “Look, it’s a long story. But the short version is, after You Know Who was defeated, Robin… he… was all I really had. And then he just left. He left the country, and I haven’t heard from him since he showed up here three days ago. And he’s acting like nothing happened, like eleven years haven’t gone by, and I just… I’m mad at him. And he doesn’t seem to understand why.”

Emma rolls her eyes. “Men,” she mutters. “You told him all this, I’m assuming?”

Regina nods. “Yeah, he kind of crashed my detention with Henry Colter and Roland Knight. And… I don’t know, I kind of blew up at him.”

“Well good,” Emma declares, plopping herself down on a cardboard box on the floor, ignoring a strange rattling sound that comes from inside. “Men are idiots. You have to yell at them sometimes to get your point across.” She studies Regina thoughtfully for a moment. “Did he say why he left?”

Regina shrugs. “Just that he needed to ‘get away’ from everything. That he couldn’t stay here after what happened.” She shakes her head. “That’s not a good enough excuse for disappearing. At least not to me.”

“No, I agree. That was a dick move,” Emma replies. She stretches her arm along the front of one of the bookshelves, drumming her fingers on the wood. “Did he say why he came back?”

Regina thinks for a moment before slowly shaking her head. “No. But I didn’t really give him a chance to say.”

Emma quirks an eyebrow. “Well, maybe you should. I know it won’t change the fact that he left in the first place, but it could be something. I mean, as long as it’s not because he’s running from the German police for kidnapping or anything.”

Regina breathes out a laugh. “I don’t think that’s it.”

“Okay, so ask him. It couldn’t hurt, could it?”

Yes, yes, it could. It very much could hurt. Especially since Regina knows _she_ isn’t the reason he came back. He said he didn’t even know she was at Hogwarts. He didn’t think of her when he left, and he didn’t think of her when he came back. Did he think of her at all while he was away?

“I’m just not sure I’m ready to start rebuilding bridges,” Regina says. “Especially not when the old ones burned so long ago.”

Emma nods. “I get that. But… I mean, at least give the guy a chance to explain himself? Maybe you can finally get some answers.”

Regina chews her bottom lip. Emma has a point, but she’s not sure if she’s ready to feel the sting of mysteries finally solved. Things in her life had finally reached a calm form of normal, or at least as calm and normal as someone like her can expect to experience. Maybe she should just leave things the way they are. Pretend like nothing’s changed. Avoid Robin like the plague, and move on with her life. At least then she could avoid any more heartache.

But all of this is a little heavy for a Wednesday morning, and dwelling on her problems isn’t going to solve any of them, so Regina shakes her head, and changes the subject.

“Speaking of men and their idiocracy,” she leads, raising an eyebrow. “What’s going on with you and Killian?”

Emma shrugs evasively. “Nothing…”

“Yeah? Because I’m a little confused. You made it pretty clear you never wanted to see him again at the start of the summer. And now… you’re together? Again?”

Emma sighs. “I don’t know. I _didn’t_ want to see him ever again, but when I came back from Greece this summer, we ran into each other and… we’re not _together_ , but, well…”

“It’s complicated?”

“Yeah,” Emma says with a nod. “I don’t know if we’ll ever _not_ be complicated.”

Regina picks at a loose thread on her sleeve. “Do you think it’ll work out this time?”

Emma shrugs on an exhale. “I don’t know. With me leaving in two weeks, who knows what will happen? But I’m willing to give it a shot if he is.”

Regina gives her a look. “He’ll _always_ give you a shot. The man is moony-eyed for you.”

Emma breathes out a laugh and looks away. “Yeah, well…” she murmurs. She falls silent for a moment and then claps her hands on her knees. “Enough about boys. I’m sure you’re just dying to get out of this closet.”

“You have no idea.”

* * *

 

It’s not _ideal_ quidditch weather, it’s sunny and a tad windy, but for practice, it’ll do.

Make that, practice after practice after practice.

In hindsight, Robin didn’t plan the coveted practice schedule too well. He wanted to be accommodating, to avoid conflict so early in the year, so he made some compromises that might end up being… unmade. The Ravenclaws were easy. In the morning, before classes. Done. Everyone else, now, that was the issue.

He pushed the Slytherins back by an hour (“That’s plenty of time for you to work with your strength and conditioning coach, Mr. Piedmont.”) to allow the Hufflepuffs the start time Miss Cinders requested, but that left him with the pesky Gryffindors who really had no conditions other than to be put on the schedule. So they ended up last, just before dinner. The third practice straight in a row.

Robin is hungry and tired and running short on patience. He doesn’t have to do much at practice, the captains really run the show, but he still has to _be_ there for safety and fairness reasons. Which wouldn’t be too bad if the players were actually being _safe_ and _fair._

The Hufflepuffs have a new Beater and by the looks of it, the lad has never picked up a Beater’s bat in his life, let alone handled a bludger. Twice, Robin had to deflect the ball from hitting another player in the head and Ella herself ended up upside down on her broom when the bludger knocked into the front of her handle. As much as he hates to admit it, Piedmont might have been right about Hufflepuff not being the most… gifted team.

But at least they play fair. Robin has half a mind to send each member of the Slytherin team a refresher copy of the quidditch handbook. Because no, Mr. Piedmont, wands are _not_ permitted on the pitch during a match, and no, Mr. Sutherland, you cannot using a Summoning spell to find the snitch, and yes, Miss Tremaine, Felix Felicis is outlawed in ALL quidditch competition.

At least he has the Gryffindors now. They should be alright. Merida is captaining them, so she should at least be able to keep them in line.

Robin has just dismounted his broom from the Slytherin practice when Miss DunBroch, and the rest of her team, come walking onto the pitch, brooms in hand.

“Professor Locksley!” Merida calls from the head of the group.

“Miss DunBroch,” Robin returns with a nod, leaning on his broom.

“I am so excited!” she exclaims, coming to a stop in front of where Robin stands. “I just _know_ this season is going to be great.”

Robin chuckles. “Well, I hope that’s true. I have to say, I’m quite interested to see how my old team is currently faring.”

“Oh, we’re great, sir,” Merica boasts. “Not to brag, of course.” She looks at her team over her shoulder. “But we’re pretty good.”

A blonde boy with shaggy hair nods in agreement. “For sure, sir. We’re the favorite to win the Cup this year.”

“Don’t jinx it, Kristoff,” a girl with long, light brown hair admonishes.

“I’m not jinxing it, Alice. I’m right.”

Robin looks past the two older students to see Henry standing behind them, his broom in his hand. “Henry,” he says with a smile. “What do you think? Gonna win the Cup this year?”

The boy shrugs. “I’m going to stay neutral on that one. I want no jinxing to be blamed on me.”

“Good decision,” Robin agrees. “Your mother was very superstitious about quidditch too. She always wore the same pair of socks for every match.”

“She did?”

Robin nods. “Yep. And sometimes she didn’t wash them. Drove your father crazy.”

Henry laughs and Robin smiles, but his amusement is short lived. Is he supposed to be making bonds with Henry? Or is that crossing a line with Regina? What even _is_ he to Henry?

Now is not the time.

Robin clears his throat. “I know I’m supposed to be impartial, but I’ll give you one tip: Ravenclaw looks to be the stiffest competition so far.”

Merida groans. “They beat us last year,” she whines.

“Yeah, but their Seeker graduated. And we got the best in the whole school,” Kristoff says, clapping Henry on the shoulder, jostling him a bit. “They’ve nothing on us.”

“Yes, well, I’d rather not take any chances,” Merida states, turning to face her team. “Gryffindors, to the sky. Let’s get this show on the road.”

The seven players mount their brooms and start to soar upward, zipping their way through the air as they warm up their flying. Robin stays on the ground, tilting his head back to watch as streaks of red and gold whizz around the pitch. This practice shouldn’t be too bad, but it’s still one more hour before he gets to eat and relax and breathe. He lowers his broom and starts to swing one leg over, but something catches his eye.

Way up at the top of the stands, tucked away in a corner, nearly hidden, someone sits, straight-backed, shoulders squared, dark hair blowing in the wind. Regina.

Robin swallows. What is she doing here? He hasn’t seen her all day, he thought she took the day off or something, why is she here now? Merida had said she liked to watch practice sometimes, but what could possibly make her want to watch _this_ practice, after what went down between them yesterday? Is she messing with him? Purposely trying to get inside his head? That’s not something Regina would do. But she is furious with him, so maybe it is something she’d do. Maybe she just wants to watch her team. It could be that. It could be that innocent. Or maybe she _wants_ to see him. Maybe she wants to talk? _Don’t be stupid, Robin, of course she doesn’t want to talk. She hates you._

He’s been staring at her for long enough, surely she’s noticed that he’s noticed she’s here. But she hasn’t looked down at him, so maybe she’s intentionally ignoring him. She’s definitely ignoring him. But if she’s ignoring him, then _why is she here?_

He doesn’t have the stomach for this or the patience to figure it out, and he can’t very well oversee an entire practice when she’s sitting in the stands, watching and ignoring and being there.

Robin waves Merida over. “I need to run to the shed real quick,” he tells her when she swoops down low and hovers in front of him. “I’ll be back in a bit.”

Merida nods and assures him she’ll hold down the fort and then takes to the sky again.

Robin picks up his broom and hurries off the pitch, neck feeling hot as he turns away from Regina. He makes it to the shed and closes the door behind him, tossing his broom down haphazardly on the floor. Dumbledore’s beard, why is she here? And why is he suddenly unable to look at her? All he’s wanted since last night is to see her again, to explain himself and beg for forgiveness, but how is he supposed to do that if the mere sight of her makes him want to vomit?

It’s guilt, he realizes with a severe pitch of his stomach. Shame and remorse for the pain he’s caused, the loneliness he left her with. All those years of feeling nothing, feeling numb, suddenly culminating in a tidal wave of emotion that is suddenly cresting and breaking and sucking him down.

He _abandoned_ her. He _left_ her. When she needed him most. When he needed her most. And what does he have to show for it? An empty life and a wandering soul? Nothing. He has nothing. He doesn’t even have Henry because Regina’s made it perfectly clear he doesn’t deserve Henry. He never deserved Henry. And now he’s back at Hogwarts and Henry’s here and Regina’s here and he’s failed both of them and he never deserved either one and he can never make up for-

“-Gold all in a snit, today?”

Robin’s panic halts in its tracks at the sound of an oddly familiar voice outside the shed window.

“I’m not sure, but I bet you it’s about Professor Swan leaving.”

Piedmont. Peter Piedmont and Hans Sutherland, by the sound of it.

“Why would that get him irritated?” Sutherland asks.

“Because he wants her job, and he’s not going to get it,” Piedmont answers. “Not if the rumor mill is to believed.”

“What’s do you mean?”

There’s a pause, and then a clanking, woody sound. “Everyone’s been saying Professor Mills is lined up to take over. And Gold is pissed about it.”

“Professor Mills teach Defense Against the Dark Arts?” Sutherland scoffs.

 _Regina teach DADA?_ Robin thinks to himself in surprise.

“Why would Mills ever be given _that_ job? Over Gold, no less?” Sutherland wonders.

There’s more clanking sounds and then: “Probably because she’s sucking Merlin’s dick.”

Both boys laugh and Robin scowls at their disrespect, fists clenching.

“I don’t understand it,” Piedmont says. “My father said she was one of the worst Death Eaters in the whole bunch. Real close with You Know Who. He said she should be rotting in Azkaban right now, but Merlin got her off at her trial and then gave her the job here. My father said it’s shameful, having Death Eaters teaching us. They’re vile, cruel, soulless-”

“That’ll be five points from Slytherin, Mr. Piedmont,” Robin declares as he comes out of the shed, throwing the door open with a bit of force.

Peter straightens from tucking his broom into its carrying case and gives Robin a cool look. “Whatever for?”

“Disrespecting a teacher,” Robin answers, fists still clenched.

Piedmont rolls his eyes. “That’s not a thing.”

“Want to make it ten?” Robin challenges, just itching to knock the smirk off the little twerp’s face.

Piedmont narrows his eyes. “I was just repeating what my father told me. Want to take points away from him too?” he mocks.

“You’re father is a cowardly little worm,” Robin snaps. “And his word is worth the weight of a dung beetle in Knuts.”

“My father is a great man,” Peter exclaims.

“I’m sure the people he murdered under the command of the Dark Lord would say the same thing.”

Piedmont’s face twists into rage. “How dare y-”

“That’s enough, Mr. Piedmont.”

Robin, Peter, and Hans all turn to see Regina standing just beyond the quidditch shed, arms crossed.

“Professor Mills-” Peter begins, nearly foaming at the mouth with anger.

“I don’t want to hear it, Piedmont,” Regina interrupts. “Professor Locksley took five points from your House and I’m sure you deserved it. You know better than to argue with a teacher. Now go. Your practice is long over and I don’t want to have to report you missing from the castle.”

Peter snarls, upper lip twitching, but he doesn’t say anything more. He grabs his broom and stalks off, leaving Hans to follow after.

Robin watches them go, keeping his eyes on their backs until their forms shrink into dots in the distance. He exhales slowly. Very slowly because Regina is just behind him. “I don’t like that kid,” he says without turning around.

Regina hums, her robes making a swishing sound as she presumably takes a few steps. “Can’t say that many people do. His dear old daddy and Professor Gold being the few exceptions.”

Robin licks his lips, takes another breath, and then finds the courage to turn around. His stomach pitches again.

She’s not looking at him. She’s turned, staring up at the castle as the sun sets in the distance, a warm glow settling around her figure. Her hair is loose, a bit wind swept, and the gold detailing on her robes glitters in the light. If Robin were a painter, he’d grab his brush.

“I didn’t know you were going to be here,” he says plainly, unsure about where to take this conversation.

“I like to watch practice from time to time,” she answers, taking a step until she’s facing him more directly.

“Yeah, Merida said you did.”

It’s silent then, and Robin doesn’t really know what to say, doesn’t think it’s his place to say anything, really, so he stays quiet and tucks his hands into his pockets, scuffing the toe of his boot on the ground.

“I saw you talking to Henry,” Regina comments after a long while. Her tone is neutral, unreadable.

“Um… yeah,” Robin winces, rubbing the back of his head. “I’m not really sure how to act around him, to be honest. I don’t want to overstep, and if you don’t want me to be anything more than a professor to him, then I’ll-”

“I want you to be in his life,” Regina interrupts.

Robin raises his eyebrows. “You do?”

Regina nods. “Yes. You’re his godfather and… he needs someone like you in his life. He needs guidance, and he needs someone who knew his parents. He deserves to have that.”

“Wow,” Robin says, a little dumbly. He hadn’t been expecting that. “I… thank you. That means a lot.”

Regina nods again, licking her lips. She looks down for a long moment and then back up, her gaze hard as she studies him. “I have questions,” she states firmly. “And I deserve answers. You’re going to give me answers.”

Robin swallows. “Of course. Anything. Ask away.”

Regina shakes her head. “Not now. You have to get back to practice and I have a department meeting in a little bit. But…” She tucks a piece of hair behind her ear. “I have to clean out Emma’s storage closet, and I could use some help.” Amazingly, a small smile comes to her lips. “Would you like to give me a hand?”

Robin blinks, surprised, and then a smile blooms across his face. “Yes,” he agrees emphatically. “Of course. Absolutely. Anything.”

Regina’s grin spreads just a little. “Good.” She looks down and back up. “I’ll see you then.” She turns and starts walking up toward the castle, but stops and looks back over her shoulder. “And Robin?”

“Yes?”

“Thank you. For what you said to Piedmont.” She furrows her brow as she looks at him, as if trying to find the right words. “I guess it’s good that some things never change.”

Robin quirks his eyebrows, a little lost, but he nods anyway. “Um, you’re welcome. Don’t mention it.”

Regina offers another small smile and then walks with purpose up toward the castle, leaving Robin to marvel at how lucky he is to get a second chance.


	6. Chapter 6

_ Rays of sunlight cascade through the spaces in the curtains, providing a spotlight for specks of dust to pirouette and grande jette through the open air of Robin’s room. His worn leather suitcase sits open, half-packed, on the edge of his bed, clothes tossed carelessly in its general direction and often landing just short of their mark. Beside his trunk lies his wand, a torn bit of parchment, and a folded map. _

_ Robin pulls open the top drawer of his bedside table and rifles through the contents, tossing a compass onto the pile with his wand. _

_ A knock makes him looks up. _

_ “Hey,” he breathes in greeting, taking a moment to look Regina up and down. She’s exhausted, that much is clear, her eyelids weighed down by things that can’t be measured, and she’s so thin, the fabric of her robes nearly swallows her whole. Still, she musters something like a smile. _

_ “Hey,” she returns, leaning against the door frame. “David just sent word. Jafar’s been apprehended.” _

_ Robin nods, crossing to his desk and opening the top to a wooden box pushed to the back corner. “Good. Where?” _

_ “The southern shore of Turkey,” Regina answers. “He was most likely fleeing to Pakistan, but David and Ruby intercepted him in time.” _

_ “Someone tell Merlin?” _

_ “Yeah,” Regina says, brow furrowing. She looks at his half-packed trunk and tilts her head. “You going somewhere?” _

_ Robin glances at his suitcase and rubs the back of his head. “Yeah. There’s a lead on Pendragon. They think he’s in Italy. I’m going to try and meet Belle down there, see if we can find anything.” _

_ Regina perks up at that. “Can I come with you?” _

_ Robin sighs, shaking his head. “No, Regina, I don’t think that’s a good idea.” _

_ “But-” _

_ “Your trial is in a week,” he reminds her as he tucks his wand into his robes. “I don’t know how long I’ll be and you need to be here.” _

_ “Then I’ll go for a bit and leave in time for my trial,” Regina suggests, coming into the room fully. _

_ Robin gives her a look. “You know it never ends up being that simple.” _

_ Regina huffs out a breath. “I’m going crazy just sitting around here, Robin. I need to  _ do  _ something.” _

_ He tucks the map and parchment in his robes as well and then turns to face her. “And you will,” he says, leaning forward and kissing her forehead. “After your trial.” _

_ She scowls, but doesn’t argue further. “Pendragon knows a lot of people in high places. He might be hard to track down,” she advises. _

_ Robin grins. “Well, it’s a good thing I’m the one going after him then, isn’t it?” _

_ Regina rolls her eyes even as she smiles. “Cocky,” she quips. _

_ Robin throws the rest of his things carelessly into his suitcase and flips the top closed, securing the latches on the edge. He picks it up by the handle and spins around to looks at Regina, surprised at her suddenly pensive expression. “Regina? Everything alright?” he asks, reaching out to cup her elbow. _

_ She blinks and shakes her head, smiling sadly. “Just… just be careful, okay? Promise you’ll come back when you’re done?” _

_ Robin smiles and kisses her forehead again. “I promise,” he says sincerely. “And soon, this will all be over. You’ll see.” _

_ Regina musters another smile and nods, stepping aside to let him go. A moment later, she hears the Floo fire up, and then he’s gone. _

_ It’s the last she sees of him for eleven years. _

* * *

 

Robin wrings his hands together, bending and twisting the old paperback in his hold. It’s dinner time, and he needs to eat, but he needs to do something else first. If his feet will move, that is.

He’s always thought the long walk from the back of the Great Hall to the front was intimidating, since his first moments as a scared eleven-year-old making the trek to be announced and Sorted. And even now, as a professor, walking from one end to the other makes him stop and take a breath to gather some courage. He doesn’t even have to walk all the way up, just halfway or so, judging by where Henry is sitting, but he still inhales and exhales before moving from the doorway.

Henry is perched on a bench, eating spoonfuls of some kind of soup by the looks of it. Violet Kaylor sits beside him, nose in a book as she absently chews on a carrot stick. Roland is across from them, a chicken leg in each hand as he alternates taking bites, cheeks slightly puffed from the food in his mouth. Someone’s hungry. They’re surrounded by fellow Gryffindors, Regina’s Gryffindors, and he nods at a few of them as he passes.

“Professor Locksley!” Merida calls from the far side of the table, waving.

Robin offers a smile in response, holding up a hand as he continues forward.

“...doesn’t mean you shouldn’t do it,” Violet is scolding as Robin approaches, a scowl on her face.

“Oh, lay off, Violet,” Roland grumbles. “I was only kidding.”

“Sure you were,” she retorts with an eyeroll.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about, but I’d wager it’d be in your best interest to listen to Miss Kaylor, Mr. Knight,” Robin comments, stopping just beside Henry.

“It usually is,” Violet concurs, shooting Roland a look.

He glares back. “I don’t need you telling me what to do, Violet. I can take care of myself.”

“Clearly not if you think being tired is an acceptable excuse for not doing your homework,” Violet returns, eyebrows raised.

Henry looks between them, unphased. Apparently this type of bickering is commonplace.

Violet glares at Roland a moment longer and then turns to look up at Robin. “Did you need something, professor?” she asks politely.

“Oh, um, yes, actually,” he answers, twisting the paperback in his hands again. He looks down at Henry. “I was hoping I could give this to you, Henry.” He squats down until they’re eye-level and hands over the book, watching as Henry runs his hands over the worn and creased cover, eyeing up the “Winning Ugly” title. “It’s all about the mental side of quidditch, and how to keep your head cool when things start going wrong in a match. It’s a little old, but it’s served me well, both here at Hogwarts and in my professional career. I thought you might benefit from it too.”

Henry tilts his head as he flips through the faded pages. “Wow, thanks,” he murmurs, eyes already scanning over the contents. He looks up. “But, I’m not sure if you can give me this since, you know, you need to be impartial and all that.”

Robin nods. “Yeah, I thought about that, but your father also used this book, so you could argue that I’m simply returning one of your father’s possessions to you.”

Henry smirks, dropping his eyes back down to the pages. He flips to the front inside cover, and then inhales audibly. “There’s… there’s two sets of handwriting in here,” he marvels, running a finger over ink long-dried.

Robin leans over to glimpse the cover upside down. “Oh, yes. That would be mine and your father’s.” He chuckles. “I was always a bit more skilled in penmanship. Daniel had a touch of chicken scratch, don’t you think?”

Henry laughs and nods. “Yes, I’d have to agree with you there.” He goes quiet then, taking the time to slowly trace each letter Daniel had sprawled on the cover page, eyes following the ink line with a sense of reverence.

Robin glances up from the book to Henry’s face, unsurprised at the sense of awe coloring the boy’s features. Clearly having this new connection to his father means more to him than any advice on quidditch ever could. Robin wonders, does he have the same illegible handwriting as Daniel? Or does he have more of a loopy, elegant scrawl like Tink? A mix of both, perhaps, considering his has a bit of both Daniel and Tink in his looks.

“Ooh, something’s got Professor Mills in a snit,” Roland suddenly announces through a mouthful of chicken, drawing both Henry’s and Robin’s attention.

Sure enough, Regina is scowling up a storm as she enters through the side entrance at the front of the hall, speaking with Merlin as he walks by her side. The crease between her eyebrows is visible even from halfway down the hall, and her lips are tipped so far into a frown, Robin fears they might get stuck like that. 

“I wonder what that’s about?” Henry muses, craning his neck to see his Head of House climb the three stairs to the Head Table.

“I bet it has to do with her new position,” Violet guesses, swirling a spoon through a steaming mug of what looks to be hot chocolate. “She’ll probably be in a rotten mood for the next couple weeks.”

“Great,” Roland groans.

“Why would she be in a rotten mood, Miss Kaylor?” Robin asks, standing from his crouching position.

Violet’s braid whips around as she turns to face him. “I just meant she’s probably under a lot of stress,” Violet explains. “And… well, I can’t imagine it’s easy for her, hearing what everyone has to say about it.”

“And just what is everyone saying?” Robin asks, thinking back to the rather rude comments Peter Piedmont had said outside the quidditch shed.

Violet seems to shrink a little. “I mean,  _ I  _ haven’t said anything negative. I would  _ never-” _

Robin interrupts her with a kind smile. “I know you wouldn’t, Miss Kaylor. I’m just curious. I’ve heard what some people have to say, and I’m wondering if it matches with the general consensus.”

Violet exhales, less on edge than before, and glances at Henry. “Well…” she trails off, unsure.

Henry shrugs. “You won’t get in trouble. It’s not like you said it.”

Violet nods and then looks back up at Robin. “I’ve heard quite a few people say she’s not qualified for the job, which is ridiculous because she’s been teaching here for years. She has more than enough experience. But I think people are concerned about the subject, since… well… most parents don’t want their children being taught Defense Against the Dark Arts by someone who was put on trial for being a Death Eater.”

Robin frowns. “Students are talking about that?”

Violet nods. “Yes, though I suspect most of them know very little of the truth and are just going off what their parents have told them, which is probably more opinion than fact. Still, I can’t imagine Professor Mills is oblivious to what people are saying, truth or not.”

Robin exhales audibly. “No, Miss Kaylor, I can’t imagine that either.” He glances up at Regina and her obstinate scowl, feeling a twisted hint of relief that at least  _ he  _ isn’t the one to have made her angry this time. “Well, although we can’t control what other people say, we can certainly stand up for Professor Mills, can’t we?” Robin suggests, looking back down at the trio of students. He gives them a wink. “We know she’s the right person for the job, don’t we?”

He gets three nods in response.

Roland scrunches up his nose. “If anyone has a problem with Professor Mills, they can take it up with  _ me,”  _ he declares bravely, punching a fist into his palm.

Robin chuckles. “As valiant as that is, Mr. Knight, resorting to physical violence might not be the best solution. You wouldn’t want to get  _ another  _ month’s detention, would you?”

Roland’s eyes widen as he shakes his head. “No, sir. I would not.”

“Good lad,” Robin returns with a nod. “Now, I’ve probably kept you three from eating for too long, so I’ll let you get back to your meal. I’ll see you tomorrow for quidditch practice, Henry?”

“Yes, sir. Thank you again, for the book.”

Robin offers a smile. “You’re very welcome.”  _ Anything for my godson,  _ he thinks, but keeps that part to himself.

* * *

 

Ugh.

It’s the only accurate word Regina can think of to describe her mood as she stares and stares at the endless, depthless void of despair Emma has left her to sort through. In other circumstances, she might find organizing such a mess to be relaxing or soothing, but something about this mess in particular just makes her want to drag her feet.

Or maybe it’s the other, less visible mess that is giving her such a feeling of dread. The mess that comes packaged with a whole decade of hurt feelings and betrayal and abandonment. The mess that’s made her feel worthless and alone for so long. The mess that she is going to have to deal with in approximately seven minutes.

Fuck.

She drops a box of broken hourglasses on the desk closest to the closet, wondering why Emma felt the need to keep pieces of junk. She has a feeling she’ll be wondering why Emma kept the majority of the items stashed in her closet, but knowing Professor Swan, she has her reasons. Or she was just too lazy to throw things out.

Fortunately, Regina is not the lazy sort, and she is not afraid of filling up garbage cans. Several garbage cans.

Unfortunately, Robin apparently does not own a watch, and he is early. Five minutes early.

He knocks on the doorframe of Emma’s classroom and Regina startles, which is stupid because she’s expecting him, but the noise and the sight of him makes her insides evaporate. Which is also stupid because she’s the one who initiated this little rendezvous, she shouldn’t be nervous, she holds all the cards here, but per the course of her entire life, her courage betrays her.

“Hey,” Robin greets with a half-smile.

“Hey,” Regina returns, tucking a piece of hair behind her ear and immediately regretting it. Fidgeting is a sign of nerves, a sign of weakness. She can’t be weak with this. “You’re early,” she states, at a loss for anything else to say.

Robin nods, remaining in the doorway. “Well, it’s like you always say: early is on time, and on time is late.”

Regina breathes out something like a chuckle. “Yeah, I guess I do always say that.”

Ah, and there it is. The awkward silence. Something they will probably be well acquainted with by the end of the night. She should probably keep a tally of how many occur, just to see if there’s some record they could break.

Robin clears his throat. “I, uh, brought something that might make tonight a little more enjoyable,” he says, holding up his right hand to reveal a blessedly full bottle of firewhiskey.

Regina raises an eyebrow. “You want to have a drink? Now? When we’re about to sort through all manners of things that have the potential to maim and kill us?”

Robin smirks and then finally enters the classroom, ambling over to the desk where Regina stands. “Well, the way I see it, tonight is going to be uncomfortable in a whole host of ways. Why not allow us to have one good thing?” he proposes, setting the bottle down and pulling out his wand. He conjures two lowball glasses and reaches for the whiskey. “It’s not your usual Merlot, but…” He hands her a poured glass. “I know you’re a big girl who can handle her liquor,” he finishes with a cheeky wink.

Regina hums as she takes the drink, swirling her glass slowly. “How do you know I still drink Merlot?”

Robin chuckles. “I’ve seen you down entire bottles of red in one night, and not be hungover in the morning. Trust me, Merlot is still your drink.”

Regina clicks her tongue noncommittally, tamping down her revealing grin as she lifts her glass to her lips.

“Wait,” Robin stops her, holding up his own glass. He tilts it toward her. “To… to you, and your new job. I know you’ll be wonderful.”

A flush creeps up the back of her neck for no reason and she looks away. “Thank you,” she murmurs, taking a sip of the whiskey and letting it burn her throat slowly.

Robin takes a drink as well, watching her over the rim of his glass, licking his lips as he sets his whiskey down on the desk.

And… there’s Awkward Silence #2.

Tick, tick, tick...

“Are you excited for your new position?” Robin asks with the tone of someone who is obviously searching for something to say.

Regina shrugs, placing her drink beside his. “I'm not sure yet. There's so much I have to do that I don't really have time to be excited.” There's also a whole host of other reasons for her to be anything but excited, but she keeps that to herself.

Robin nods. “Yes, I know exactly what you mean. Trying to assume a new role right at the start of the school year is quite the challenge.”

“At least your predecessor was organized,” Regina replies, turning a baleful eye on the closet behind her. “Just look at the mess Emma’s left me.”

Robin crosses to the closet and pokes his head inside, whistling at the endless pit of stuff. “Does she even know what half this is?”

Regina shakes her head, coming up behind him to peer over his shoulder. “Nope,” she answers. “She said she  _ thinks  _ nothing will kill us, but no guarantees.”

Robin smirks and turns his head to look at her. “Playing with things that have a high chance of causing physical harm at any moment? Sounds like a grand night to me.”

Regina rolls her eyes, stepping past him and into the small space. “You will not be  _ playing  _ with anything, Robin Locksley. I don’t want to have to give you detention, too.”

“Speaking of, where are Henry and Roland? Shouldn’t they be serving detention again tonight?”

“Oh, they are,” Regina answers, bending to lift a heavy cardboard box off one of the bottom shelves. “But I have them cleaning the trophy cases tonight since you and I are busy doing this.”  _ And since I don’t want them hearing any bit of the conversation we’ll be having later,  _ she thinks to herself.

“They could help you organize as part of their detention,” Robin suggests, reaching to take the box from her hands.

Regina passes it over and then bends down to grab another one. “And risk them losing a limb in the process? No, I don’t think so.”

Robin chuckles, taking a few steps out of the closet and placing the box down on Emma’s desk. “Fair point,” he concurs, pulling open the flaps to reveal the contents inside. “Oh, how boring. Textbooks.”

Regina sets her box down beside his and yanks open the top, finding more books. She takes one out and flips to the copyright page. “These books were published in 1945. Why would I want textbooks published in 1945?”

Robin shrugs and pulls out a book. “I think a better question is why does Emma even  _ have  _ textbooks published in 1945?”

Regina quirks her eyebrows in agreement. “Knowing her, it’s probably because they’re a rare edition signed by the author in Hippogriff blood or something equally odd,” she mutters, tucking the book back in with the others. “I guess take a look through one? See if any of the information is even still relevant. I’ll probably end up pitching them anyway, but maybe this is the only textbook ever published that has a section on a rare African plant or something.”

Robin nods and thumbs through the pages. “Aye, aye, ma’am.”

Regina leaves him to it and heads back into the closet, eyeing the shelves with a sigh. She doesn’t know what she’s going to need for each of her classes, but she knows that if she can’t even identify the object, then most likely she will not be using it as a teaching tool. Emma had left her the curriculum outlines from the previous year and she has her own experience from DADA when she was a student, but considering her time at Hogwarts occurred during the rising of the Dark Lord, she can only imagine the material she was taught may be a bit different than what is necessary for students today. Not to mention her complete lack of real world DADA experience has left her woefully out of practice in this particular field, but apparently that doesn’t matter to Merlin and Emma, even if it matters a great deal to everyone else (like Gold, whom she overheard gossiping about her with a few of his students before dinner, something that had put her in a rather foul mood for the duration of the meal).

Robin has a lot of experience in defensive magic. As a founding member of the Order of the Phoenix, he is probably more skilled in DADA than Emma herself, and certainly more than Regina. No one would object to him teaching DADA, despite his complete lack of teaching experience. Of course, he might not be so inexperienced if he had actually stayed around and taken a  _ sensible  _ job instead of traversing the globe on a broomstick for millions of galleons. She wonders if all those coins were worth everything he left behind, including her.

Robin laughs suddenly, and Regina pokes her head out of the closet to see him grinning delightedly at a page of the decades-old textbook. “What’s the matter?” she asks.

Robin shakes his head and turns the book around, showing her a full page drawing of an electric blue, winged creature that greatly resembles an alien with huge ears. “Cornish pixies,” Robin chuckles in a way that makes her feel as if she should understand some inside joke he’s referencing.

When she stares at him blankly, his eyes widen. “Don’t tell me you don’t remember.”

She shakes her head, stepping out of the closet fully. “Sorry, doesn’t ring a bell.”

“Regina,  _ Cornish pixies,”  _ Robin repeats, as if he can jog her memory with just the name. “From Care of Magical Creatures? Fourth year? With Professor Flynn?”

Regina blinks, and then she gasps. “Oh my god,” she breathes, laughter slowly bubbling up. “I forgot all about that!”

“How could you forget a swarm of blue vermin physically picking John Little up and dropping him in the Black Lake?” Robin laughs.

“I’m sorry, but all I can remember is you and Daniel practically pissing yourselves as you laughed at the poor guy,” Regina returns, fighting against the giggles bouncing in her throat. “He refused to come back to class for weeks!”

“Well, Professor Flynn didn’t handle it very well, did he?” Robin says. “Telling John to just shake it off probably wasn’t the best advice.”

“He was mortified! In front of Dorothy Gale, too. He was always sweet on her, you know.”

Robin laughs again. “Yeah, I can still remember the look on his face when she went to the Yule Ball with Ruby Lucas.”

“Oh, god, I forgot about that too!”

“John never did have the best of luck with women.”

“Not for lack of trying.”

“Oh no, certainly not. Pulled a few moves on you over the years, didn’t he?”

“Yeah, if you consider ‘pulling a move’ to be staining my robes with Calming Draught because he wanted to impress me in Potions.”

They both laugh, and it is so like how things used to be, so like when things were simpler, but there are two other voices missing from their merriment, and the absence is not lost on either of them as their giggles fade away, looking at each other through a haze of wistfulness. It’s been eleven years since she last heard him laugh, since she last felt anything close to the happiness of her adolescence at Hogwarts, and the unfairness of it all hits her square in the chest.

“Why did you leave, Robin?” she asks quietly, melancholy coloring her face. “And don’t say it was because you had to get away. That’s bullshit. You know it, and I know it. What’s the truth?”

He exhales, long and slow, shoulders dropping as he closes the textbook and places it back in the box. “It’s not a simple answer,” he says, thumbing the edge of one of the box flaps.

“We’re not simple people,” she returns. “We never have been.”

He quirks an eyebrow in agreement. “Can’t argue with you there,” he mutters, reaching for his whiskey. He takes a long sip, then sets his glass down, sitting in the empty desk chair. “You want the whole thing?”

Regina nods. “I think you owe me that much.”

Robin rubs his forehead. “That I do,” he agrees. He takes another sip of whiskey, takes another breath, and nearly breaks her in two when he says, “I left to kill Will.”

She loses her breath and holds it at the same time. “What?”

He licks his lips. “When I told you I was following a lead on Arthur Pendragon… that wasn’t true. I had heard that Will might be hiding out in France somewhere, and I went after him.”

Regina swallows and shakes her head. “Why… why didn’t you tell me? Why did you  _ lie-” _

“Regina, if I had told you I was going after Will, you would have wanted to come with me,” Robin interrupts.

“So what? I-”

“You’re trial was starting in a week,” Robin reminds her. “You had to stay here, and if you knew what I was really doing, you would have come after me one way or another.” He shakes his head. “You needed to be acquitted. If you left, they’d have only upped the charges on you and gone for a conviction, no matter what Merlin said. Your freedom was more important than a wild goose chase.”

Regina closes her eyes, trying to steady herself in the wake of such unsettling information. He’s right, she knows he is. If he told her Will was the reason for his leaving, she would have followed him in a heartbeat, and would have probably ended up in Azkaban as a result. But even still…

“You haven’t spent eleven years looking for a dead man, Robin,” she retorts. “And when you left, you promised me- you  _ promised-  _ that once you found Arthur, you’d come back. And just because the subject of your search changed, doesn’t mean your word did. You broke your promise to me.”

Robin nods solemnly. “I know I did. And I had every intention of keeping it. I planned all along to come back once Will was taken care of, but when I heard that he was found dead… something inside me broke. I went to a very dark place inside myself. It was like everything I had ever known was wrong. My best friend was dead and my other friend got him killed. It felt like I didn’t know anything anymore. I strayed very far from who I was, and… well, let’s just say Godric Gryffindor wouldn’t have been very proud to have me in his House.” He looks up. “ _ You  _ wouldn’t have been proud of me. And I couldn’t face you like that.”

“Robin, I had just been put on trial for being a Death Eater,” she reminds him. “I don’t think I was in any place to judge your moral character.”

“Maybe not, but it didn’t feel right coming home and being a completely different person.” He sighs. “So I stayed away. Handled my misery with alcohol and violence and nameless women. And I resigned myself to the fact that that was just how my life was going to be from then on.”

_ I know that feeling,  _ Regina muses to herself, exhaling through her nose. And how funny, that they were both in incredibly dark places at the same time, yet so far away from each other. And how stupid, that they suffered alone instead of finding strength from each other. She walks over and grabs a chair from another desk, sitting down across from him.

“I would have welcomed you back, you know,” she murmurs. “In any state, any frame of mind, I wouldn’t have cared. I was so alone. I just wanted you to come home.”

Robin offers a crooked smile. “That was another thing. I didn’t think you wanted me to come back.”

Regina shakes her head. “Why not?”

Robin looks away and then down, fidgeting with his fingers. He’s silent for a long moment, struggling to find the right words, and then he answers quietly, “Because I wasn’t him.”

Regina’s breath stutters, heart accelerating at a dangerous speed. “What?” she whispers.

He glances up at her with an understanding smile. “Regina, I know what you felt for Daniel. I’ve known since the day we met. I’ve said it before- I know you. And part of knowing you is knowing how much you loved him. Through everything, you did.”

She swallows. Never once had she breathed a word of her feelings for Daniel Colter to anyone, especially not to Robin, his best friend, and to suddenly be staring this realization in the face is shocking to say the least.

“And when he died,” Robin continues, “I knew how shattered you were, not just because he was your friend, but because of everything else you felt for him. And I thought…” He trails off, pauses, clears his throat. “I thought you wouldn’t want me around because I was alive, and he wasn’t. I thought you’d be angry with me because I wasn’t Daniel.”

Tears spring to her eyes, sudden and forceful, and her throat swells up, breath stalling in her lungs, because have they really wasted an entire decade on a misconception? “Robin,” she murmurs. “That’s… that’s not true at all. I… yes, when Daniel died I was devastated, but I never once faulted  _ you _ for surviving. That would be like getting angry because you exist.”

Robin breathes out a laugh. “Well, towards the end of sixth year, you sort of went out of your way to make sure I knew how much you  _ didn’t  _ want me around.”

Regina rolls her eyes half-heartedly. “That was before everything. But after the war ended… you were pretty much all I had left. God, Robin, have you really stayed away all this time because you thought I didn’t want you around?”

Robin shrugs. “No. I mean, I assumed you didn’t stay around here, but I didn’t want to risk coming back and finding you hating my guts.”

“So, what? You just wallowed in misery for years and decided one day to get back on a broomstick?”

“What a sad life that would have been, huh?” Robin says. “No, that’s not what happened. I made my way to Spain eventually and I met someone, a woman, who gave me the kick to the ass that I needed and brought me back to who I was. She… she saved me, really.”

Regina licks her lips. “And now? She’s…”

Robin shakes his head. “I’m not sure, actually. I haven’t spoken to her in years, not since I left Spain. We just sort of drifted apart, and when I left for Germany, she didn’t come with me.”

“So you don’t know what she’s up to today?”

“Oh, I imagine she is living a very wonderful life free from the irritation of having to put up with me everyday,” Robin quips, earning himself a small smile.

“Lucky her,” Regina chuckles softly. She reaches out and takes one of his hands in hers, running her fingers over his palm, tracing the callouses and wrinkles that never used to be there. She catches a glimpse of the top of the tattoo on his forearm, the lion of Gryffindor, a symbol of courage and tolerance, an act of defiance he had taken when the Pureblood supremacist mindset had first struck Hogwarts. Always so brave, so sure of himself, Robin had been. But now, hearing he had been just as lost and miserable and lonely as she, she starts to wonder if maybe he was never as confident as she always thought him to be. 

She ghosts the tips of her fingers along his wrist, searching for the bond between them that has since become a victim of time and misunderstandings. And it hurts, so very much, to think that all this time they could have been healing each other, instead of enduring perpetual torment, if only they had told each other of their pain.

Regina sucks in a shaky breath, tears renewing themselves in her eyes. “I thought the same thing,” she whispers.

Robin looks up, confused. “What?”

“I thought you didn’t come back because  _ I  _ wasn’t Daniel,” she explains as a tear slips down her cheek. “Because he died and I didn’t. I thought you hated me for it.”

Robin shakes his head vehemently, closing his fingers around her hand. “Regina, no. I could  _ never _ hate you. How could you ever think I did?”

She laughs a bit bitterly and wipes a tear away. “Well, not hearing from you for a whole decade might have given me some hints.” She closes her eyes, pushing more moisture down her cheeks. “Daniel deserved to live,” she manages, voice wavering. “He  _ should have  _ lived. But he didn’t. I did. And I didn’t deserve to. Daniel was so good, and so brave, and so kind. And I’m… I’m…” She trails off to take a deep breath, tears making it difficult to force the words out.

Robin reaches up with his free hand and cups her cheek, thumb rubbing back and forth soothingly. “You’re what?” he asks softly.

She looks up and meets his eyes, shaking her head, bumping her cheek into his thumb. “I’m  _ this,”  _ she answers, pulling up her sleeve. Her Dark Mark burns, as it always does, on her arm, the faded skull and snake standing out starkly on her pale skin.

Robin looks down at the symbol of her cowardice and betrayal, and shakes his head. “No,” he murmurs. He lifts their entwined hands and gently presses her palm against her chest, right over her heart. “You’re  _ this,”  _ he affirms gently, staring deep into her eyes. “You’re more than just that smudge on your arm. You’re more than just the colors of your old House. You have a beautiful heart, Regina. One that’s stronger and more resilient than anyone else I’ve ever known. I know you. And you are so good.”

Her cheeks are wet, vision blurred, head swimming. She breathes out weakly. “It would have been nice to know that a little sooner,” she manages, dropping her gaze from his.

“I know,” Robin answers, voice tight. She looks back up to find tears swimming in his eyes too. “I’m so sorry.”

Regina nods and Robin nods and there’s nothing left to say, so when he pulls her into his chest, she goes willingly and lets herself be wrapped up in an embrace that is so familiar and so foreign all at the same time. He runs his hand over her back in slow, soothing circles, taking deep breaths with his nose pressed into her hair. Regina soaks it all in, uncaring that her tears are marking his robes as something inside her settles knowing the last connection to her youth has been saved even after she had thought it to be irreparably lost. 

He smells the same, she realizes as her nose presses close to his neck. Like pine and the outdoors and everything fresh. It calms her, knowing that everything else might have changed, but at least something from simpler times has remained. She inhales deeply, squeezing his bicep as she pulls back from his embrace. “Why did you come back?” she asks, wiping her cheeks. “After all these years, why?”

Robin mimics her and wipes his tears away too. “Merlin asked me to,” he answers simply. “And the last couple of years, I’ve felt like something’s been missing, and no matter where I went, I could never seem to figure out what.” He shrugs. “I figured, what better place to look than Hogwarts? It’s always been the place that’s felt the most like home.”

Regina offers a small smile. “I know that feeling,” she murmurs. Their eyes lock for a moment, and something new passes between them, a mutual exchange of understanding, forgiveness, and acceptance. The last shaky piece inside of Regina finally calms.

The moment is broken when the rich sound of the clock tower bells begins to chime outside, permeating their little bubble. Regina looks up at the clock on the wall and winces. “It’s ten o’clock,” she says. “I should go relieve Colter and Knight from their detention. They probably think I forgot about them.”

They both stand, and Regina twists around to glance at the sad state of the forgotten mess in the closet. She groans and pulls out her wand, sending all the items they had taken out of the closet back to where they came from, resigning herself to the fact that organizing everything will just have to wait for another day.

“Giving up?” Robin chuckles, emptying the last bit of whiskey in his glass.

“More like giving Future Me problems to worry about,” Regina sighs, grabbing her own drink and gulping down the good bit of alcohol still in her cup. She coughs at the burning in her throat and grimaces as she hands her glass over to Robin. “Ugh, now I remember why I stick to wine.”

Robin laughs as he waves his wand over the whiskey bottles and glasses, presumably sending them to his chambers. “I’ll remember that for next time.”

They leave Emma’s classroom and walk the halls in comfortable silence, smiling whenever they happen to glance at each other at the same time. It’s nice, familiar, and it feels like they could be walking to third period Charms together, like they once had.

The trophy cases are just past the Great Hall, but right before they turn the corner to get where they’re going, they both stop.

“Is that… water?” Robin asks, bending down to inspect the substance pooling on the stone floor, reflecting the moonlight pouring in through the windows.

“Maybe one of the bathrooms flooded?” Regina suggests, looking for a way to step around the large puddle and finding none.

“We should find Grump and tell him,” Robin says, straightening. They step gingerly through the water, rounding the corner and then freezing for a whole different reason.

Henry and Roland are standing in the hallway, staring at the wall with wide, frightened eyes. They both look over at the sound of Regina and Robin’s approach. “Professor Mills, we… we didn’t do it!” Henry exclaims. “It was just… it was like that when we found it!”

Regina walks slowly over to where the boys stand, pulse increasing with every step. She swallows as she takes in the scene before her. Mr. Clark, Grump’s beloved cat, dangles by a string from the ceiling, unmoving and not breathing, its eyes open wide and unblinking. More water pools on the floor beneath it, but what makes a swell of panic rise in Regina’s throat is the crudely written inscription on the wall, glaring back at her in blood red letters:

_ The Chamber of Secrets has been opened _

_ Enemies of the heir… beware _


	7. Chapter 7

_ “You’re going to get us killed!” Regina hisses. “Or worse- expelled!” _

_ Daniel looks over his shoulder, eyebrow raised. “I don’t think your logic is very sound,” he whispers loudly. “And need I remind you again- you didn’t have to come.” _

_ “And leave you three idiots to get your heads blown up? I don’t think so.” _

_ A bird-like whistle from farther down the hall grabs their attention and then they’re darting behind a stone statue of a knight, pressing close together against the wall. “This is so stupid,” Regina breathes as the sound of footsteps steadily grows closer. _

_ “This is brilliant,” Daniel counters, pulling his wand out of his robes and gripping it tight. _

_ “We are going to be in so much trouble,” Regina sighs, mostly to herself. She tilts her head just enough to catch a glimpse of Mr. Grump and his loyal cat Mr. Clark as they turn the corner, matching scowls on their faces. Daniel bends his knees and braces himself with a hand against the statue, wand at the ready, waiting. _

_ Grump and Mr. Clark make it about halfway down the hallway when behind them, Regina sees a shadow move just beyond a statue identical to the one concealing her and Daniel. And then, a single marble suddenly goes bouncing out from behind the statue, rolling out into the middle of the floor and drawing the attention of both Grump and Mr. Clark. _

_ “Say, who’s there?” Grump growls, raising his lantern, eyes narrowing suspiciously. _

_ A second passes and then- _

_ “Engorgio!” Daniel shouts as he jumps from his hiding place. _

_ “Wingardium Leviosa!” Will yells as he too bursts into view farther down the hall, near the source of the marble. _

_ Grump whips from side to side, unsure where to look, face growing redder by the second. “What the bloody hell do you idiots think yous is doing-” _

_ His rant is cut short by a distressed meow from Mr. Clark. All eyes turn to the suddenly wide-eyed cat and realization grows on Grump’s face. Mr. Clark’s tail swells first, then his back legs, then his front legs. His body inflates to the size and roundness of a beach ball as his paws begin to slowly rise off the floor. His face is practically lost in the puffiness of his fur as he floats to the ceiling, bouncing against the stone arches like a balloon. He meows and hisses and growls, trying in vain to twist and move his limbs. _

_ Grump gapes at his cursed pet. “You,” he seethes, pointing a meaty finger at Daniel and then whirling around on Will. “You set him right this instant!” _

_ “Hmmm… no, I don’t think we will,” Will says, flicking his wand and spinning Mr. Clark around. _

_ “You fix him or I’ll get the Headmaster!” Grump threatens. _

_ “No, you won’t,” Daniel counters with a grin. _

_ “I’ll get him right now!” Grump challenges. _

_ “Might want to get your stupid cat first,” Will replies. He reers his arm back, as if preparing to throw a ball, and then thrusts his wand forward, sending Mr. Clark bobbing and bouncing along the ceiling at a semi-high speed, down the hallway and out of sight. _

_ Grump’s eyes nearly pop out of his head. “Mr. Clark!” he shouts, running after his pet. “Don’t worry, precious, Daddy’s coming!” He scurries down the corridor and around the corner, lantern swinging as he goes. _

_ As soon as he’s gone, Daniel nearly falls over on the floor with laughter. “Did you see his face?” he chortles, holding his stomach. _

_ Regina puts her hands on her hips, shaking her head as she steps out from behind the statue. “You are dead, both of you,” she admonishes over Daniel and Will’s giggles. _

_ “That went better than I was expecting,” Robin says, emerging from his own hiding place beside Will. “Course, Will almost messed it up, nearly dropping the marble too soon.” _

_ Will either doesn’t hear him or doesn’t seem to care. “How far do you think that stupid cat is going to go? Right out the front doors?” _

_ “We can only hope,” Daniel crows. “Out the front doors and off into the night sky!” _

_ Regina shakes her head again as all three boys burst into another round of laughter. Idiots, the lot of them. But still, she can’t resist smiling at the absurdity of it all. She definitely has unusual taste in friends. _

* * *

 

Of all the rooms in Hogwarts, this one has to be the most ornate. Wide, wooden bookshelves stretch from floor to ceiling. Two spiral staircases lead to a small second level balcony above a grand, carved desk. Frosted glass cabinets conceal hosts of mysteries and oddities. A small table that seems a bit out of place holds a game of wizard’s chess waiting to be played. A wide basin of water sits on a pedestal, wisps of gray and silver tumbling and twirling beneath the glassy surface. Portraits of every former headmaster since the founding of Hogwarts decorate almost every square inch of wallpaper. Long, thin windows line every stretch of wall left uncovered, moonlight checkering the marble floor. Merlin’s office is quite a sight to behold.

Even more so, when it is filled with several very loud, very irate professors.

“The school must be evacuated,” Belle insists, her long brown hair tumbling over her shoulder in a messy braid. 

“Over an empty threat?” David challenges, crossing his arms and losing some of his authority to his matching yellow robe and slippers.

“Who says it’s empty?” Belle argues. “At the very least, the grounds must be searched.”

“And who exactly would we be looking for?” Killian sighs, rubbing thumb and forefinger over his eyes.

“A cat killer, that’s who ya be looking for!” Grump sobs as he clutches the still body of Mr. Clark in his arms. “A monster! Someone who preys on poor, innocent kitties who don’t mean no harm!”

Regina can practically feel Robin’s eye roll from beside her. “If only he cared as much about the students as he does his dumb cat,” he mutters under his breath.

“And you don’t gotta look very far, would ya?” Grump continues to cry, turning a thick finger on the two very confused boys sitting in the corner of Merlin’s office. “They’s the ones who did it!”

Henry and Roland shrink into each other as all eyes in the room turn to them.

Regina shakes her head at Grump’s accusatory glare. As much as the caretaker would love to pin something like this on Colter and Knight, she knows for a fact they had nothing to do with this. Wrong place, wrong time. Like most of the sticky situations they get themselves into.

“Calm yourself, Leroy,” Merlin says as he strides into his office, Emma and Gold following behind. Gold’s face is a combination of irritated and bored, but when his eyes land on Henry and Roland in the corner, a twisted little grin comes to his lips. He gives Regina a rather smug look as he takes his place next to David. Regina glares in return.

Merlin climbs the three steps up to his desk and pulls out his wand, gesturing for Grump to come forward. “Emma,” Merlin instructs with a jerk of his head.

Emma climbs up to his desk as well, pulling out her own wand as Grump gently lays Mr. Clark on the wooden surface. Together, Merlin and Emma press their wands into the cat’s fur, eyes squinting in synch as they study and analyze his frozen body, each muttering and murmuring things under their breaths. 

Regina grits her teeth at Grump’s continued blubbering, wishing he would tone down the dramatics for Henry and Roland’s sake. They’re probably already freaked out enough as it is. Don’t need the caretaker to make everything worse, even though that tends to be the habit of things.

Merlin sets back from examining Mr. Clark, lightly scratching his chin as he continues to stare at the cat. “Hmm,” he hums simply.

“Well, you know who did it?” Grump demands. “Who killed my baby?”

“He’s not dead, Leroy,” Merlin says, to the general surprise of the room.

“Not dead?” Grump chokes. “But- but- he’s all stiff and not moving!”

“I believe he’s been Petrified,” Merlin theorizes. “Emma?”

He gets a nod in response. “Yeah, definitely not dead,” Emma agrees. “Petrified seems the logical conclusion, but by what or who, I can’t really say.”

“I know who!” Grump exclaims, pointing accusingly at Henry and Roland still huddling on the corner bench. “It was them no good brats! They’s always getting inta trouble and doing stuff they’s not s’pposed to do. And they’s was caught at the scene of the crime! They hurt my cat and wrote them words on the wall! It was them, Headmaster. I swear it!”

Regina opens her mouth to jump to her students’ defense, but Merlin beats her to it.

“Petrification is a skill that far surpasses the ability of two second years, Leroy,” Merlin says. “Only a wizard or witch with the most advanced knowledge of the Dark Arts would-”

“They did it! They  _ did it!”  _ Grump continues to shout, undeterred.

“We never touched Mr. Clark!” Henry defends suddenly, jumping to his feet. “We just  _ found  _ him. And we didn’t write  _ anything  _ on the wall. It was like that when we got there. I’ve never even heard of the Chamber of Secrets.”

“Rubbish!” Grump cries. “You no good, lying little-”

“If I may speak, Headmaster,” Gold interrupts, stepping forward. “Colter and Knight may simply have been in the wrong place at the wrong time.”

Regina’s jaw nearly drops. Roland’s actually does. She thought there was a greater chance of her hair turning blue than there was of Alastor Gold ever speaking up in defense of Henry Colter.

“But there are some rather suspicious circumstances afoot here,” Gold goes on, his lips curling into a bit of sneer. “It was past ten o’clock when Colter and Knight were found. What were they doing out of Gryffindor tower to begin with? And why did they find themselves in that particular corridor, of all places?”

“They were in detention with me,” Regina finally speaks up. “They were polishing the trophy cases, and were walking back to ask me if they could be excused for the night. I had lost track of time and didn’t realize how late it had gotten. The only way from the trophy cases to my classroom is through that corridor.”

“Your classroom is on the second floor,” Gold argues. “There is absolutely no need to go through that corridor to get to it.”

Regina smiles sweetly. “Oh, I’m sorry. I meant they were walking to the Defense Against the Dark Arts classroom. I was in  _ there  _ tonight since, you know, it will be mine in a few weeks.”

Out of the corner of her eye, Regina sees Robin bring a hand up to his mouth to hide a grin.

Gold’s eyes narrow. “Of course, Colter and Knight weren’t the only ones found at the scene. You were there as well, Professor Mills. And if we’re looking for wizards or witches who have intimate knowledge of the Dark Arts, well… I do believe you fit that description.”

Regina’s blood boils. “I believe you need to look in the mirror, professor.”

Gold’s nostrils flare, and he opens his mouth to speak, but-

“You’re forgetting I was there too,” Robin interrupts, stepping forward and discretely finding Regina’s arm to give it a gentle squeeze, reminding her to breathe. “And unless you want to suggest that the quidditch master, the soon-to-be DADA professor, and two second years are in cahoots to terrorize the school, I’d suggest you backtrack from that line of accusations.”

“And just what were  _ you  _ doing there?” Gold challenges. “Long way from the quidditch pitch.”

“I was with Regina, helping her go through Emma’s closet,” Robin answers. “There’s quite a lot of stuff in there, though I suppose you wouldn’t know that.”

Gold’s glare deepens, his jaw clenching and unclenching, knuckles white around the head of his cane. “My  _ point,”  _ he seethes, turning back to Merlin. “Is that just because Professors Mills and Locksley found Colter and Knight in the corridor, doesn’t mean they truly know what they were doing there in the first place. They’re just assuming they were heading back to the DADA classroom, but I don’t believe Colter and Knight are being entirely truthful. Personally, I think something must be done until they feel like being honest. Suspension from all quidditch activities, perhaps?”

“Oh, for Dumbledore’s sake,” Regina exclaims with an eyeroll. “What would be the point of that? It’s not like Mr. Clark was taken out by a Beater’s bat. And besides, there is absolutely no proof Henry and Roland have done anything wrong.”

Merlin turns and studies the two boys awaiting judgement with an impartial, searching gaze. After a moment, he nods slowly. “Innocent until proven guilty, Alastor.”

Gold’s sneer sours even further, but he doesn’t argue.

Grump, on the other hand, lets out an angry cry. “Someone’s hurt my cat!” he shouts. “I want to see some  _ punishment!” _

Merlin holds up a pacifying hand. “And there will be, Leroy. Once we find out who or what is responsible. In the meantime, I will have Professor Little acquire some Mandrake plants. Once they’re full grown, Regina can brew a potion that will restore Mr. Clark. Don’t worry, Leroy. Everything will be taken care of.” He picks the Petrified cat up and gently places the body back into Grump’s arms. “Keep him in a safe place until then.”

Grump’s tears renew as he clutches at the fur of his pet. Sniffling and sobbing, he turns and solemnly leaves the room, mumbling something like a lullaby through his cries.

Robin doesn’t even attempt to hide his eyeroll once the caretaker is gone. “Never let me get a cat,” he grumbles to Regina.

“Now,” Merlin declares, tucking his wand back into his robes. “As interesting as this has been, I hope I do not have to remind you all that discretion is very important until we sort this all out. We don’t need rumors flying and causing panic while we get to the bottom of this.”

Killian coughs and sheepishly raises his hand. “Uh, Headmaster? That might be, uh, a bit of a problem.”

Emma lifts an eyebrow. “What did you do?”

“Well, I’m not going to say it wasn’t my fault, but I didn’t know what had happened and so I couldn’t really stop it,” Killian prefaces, scratching the back of his head. “My sixth years were finishing up their observation session in the tower, and I was walking them back to their respective common rooms since they’d be heckled by Grump otherwise, and well… you can’t really avoid the corridor in question when you’re leaving the Astronomy tower, so… uh, basically, there’s a group of sixth years who saw the writing on the wall.”

Groans emanate around the room.

“At least they didn’t see Mr. Clark,” Belle says.

“Yeah, but knowing Grump, he’ll be wailing and moaning for weeks,” Robin counters. “It won’t take a genius to figure out what happened.”

“Which means by tomorrow, the entire school will know,” David mutters, rubbing his eyes.

“I’m sorry, Headmaster. If I had known-” Killian starts.

“It’s quite alright, Killian,” Merlin assures. “Robin is right. I have a feeling the news would have gotten around despite our best efforts anyway.”

“So what do we do now?” Emma asks.

“I believe it would be in our best interests to follow Belle’s suggestion and search the castle, just to make sure there’s no one nefarious lurking about,” Merlin states. “So, Heads of House, if you could please take your respective wings and check in on your dormitories. Emma, could you accompany David please? Robin, could you go with Regina, and Killian with Belle? I’ll join you in a moment, Alastor.”

“That will not be necessary, Headmaster,” Gold grumbles, turning on his heel. “I am perfectly capable of checking the dungeons on my own.” He limps out of the room without another word, grip still white around his cane.

“What about the writing on the wall, Merlin?” Regina asks. “We can’t leave it there.”

“I will ensure it is removed. I will also notify the other professors and let them know what happened.” He sits down at his desk and pulls open a drawer. “Emma? A word, before you go.”

As Emma goes around to the other side of Merlin’s desk, Killian stands and gestures to Belle. “Am I going to learn the secret to how to get into Ravenclaw tower?” he teases as they exit.

“You might, but too bad for you it changes every time,” Belle answers with a grin, her voice carrying just enough as they descend the spiral steps to the main floor of the castle.

Robin huffs out a breath. “Ready?” he asks, turning toward Regina.

She nods and looks over at the bench in the corner and the two boys sitting patiently atop it. “Well, come on then,” she calls to Henry and Roland, gesturing them over with a wave. “It’s about time the two of you get back to your dormitory.”

The boys jump up without hesitation, hurrying over to their Head of House.

“You believe us, right, Professor Mills?” Roland asks as they walk down the staircase from Merlin’s office.

Regina sighs and resists the urge to comb her fingers through his unruly curls. “Yes, Mr. Knight. I believe you. I won’t let Professor Gold or Mr. Grump turn you into scapegoats.”

Roland nods with a satisfied smile.

Regina glances over at Henry and notices a distinct lack of any smile on his face. He’s frowning, a pondering pinch growing between his eyebrows by the second. There’s a hesitancy coloring his expression, and Regina can’t help but wonder if perhaps Gold was right in saying the boys aren’t being completely honest. She has no doubt of their innocence, absolutely none, but Henry has kept information from her before, and it led to him being attacked by the bodiless soul of You Know Who in the secret room guarding the Sorcerer’s Stone last year.

“Professor Locksley, could you take Mr. Knight on up to the dormitory? I’d like to have a word with Mr. Colter,” Regina says, stopping at the top of the stairs just outside the Gryffindor common room. “And could you check the common room for any ‘nefarious persons’ while you’re there?”

Robin nods and puts a hand on Roland’s shoulder, guiding him up toward the secret entrance. “You heard her, lad. It’s about time you got to bed. You’ll be awfully tired in the morning.”

Roland glances back every few seconds as they go, but Regina waits until the portrait of the Fat Lady has let them into the passageway and closed once more before turning to Henry. She stays quiet for a moment, studying his gaze that he pointedly drops to the floor. “Mr. Colter, is there something you’d like to tell me?” she asks gently but firmly.

Henry looks up and shakes his head innocently. “No, Professor Mills.”

“You’re sure? Nothing at all?”

Another head shake. “No, ma’am.”

Regina exhales, stuck on the nagging feeling that there’s something more to the events of the night than what appears. “Well, if there ever  _ is  _ something you wish to tell me, you know my door is always open,” she says sincerely. “Alright?”

“Yes, ma’am,” Henry answers with a quirk of his lips. “May I go to bed now? I have an early class tomorrow morning.”

Regina nods. “Head on in. And straight to bed with you. No dawdling.”

Henry bids her goodnight and heads toward the Fat Lady, but before he can say the password, the portrait is swinging forward and Robin is climbing out of the passageway. He straightens and gives Henry a pat on the shoulder. “Nothing nefarious in sight, lad. Go on and get some rest now.”

Once Henry is safely inside the common room and the door has been concealed once more, Robin turns to Regina. “Violet Kaylor was waiting up,” he says, walking back over to her.

“Was she? I’m not surprised,” Regina muses as they descend the stairs. “She mothers those boys like it’s her job.”

“She’s not the only one, I’ve noticed.”

Regina looks up at him. “What do you mean?”

Robin smiles. “You care for them, Regina,” he explains. “As I’m sure you do all your students, but with Henry and Roland it’s different. You watch out for them. You did tonight, and you did on the first day of school with the car incident, and from what I’ve heard, you have since the day they arrived at Hogwarts. And considering their track record, I’m sure you will have to many times in the future. It’s just something I’ve noticed. You protect them.”

Regina shrugs, a little embarrassed and a little flustered. “They’ve both had to stand up for themselves their whole lives. I figured that’s my job now while they’re my students. Especially when they’re being targeted by the likes of Alastor Gold.”

“Yeah, he’s a right piece of shit, isn’t he?” Robin says. “He was back then and he still is now. I wanted to deck him about seven times back in Merlin’s office.”

“I want to ‘deck him’ just about every single day,” Regina sighs as they turn a corner into a dimly lit corridor. “I don’t know why Merlin still puts up with him. He’s horrible.”

Robin hums in agreement and pulls out his wand. He mutters, “Lumos,” under his breath and the tip of his wand glows brightly. A few of the portraits on the wall grumble for him to put out the light as they pass.

“So, what do you think?” Robin asks, moving his wand from side to side slowly, illuminating both sides of the hallway. “Mr. Clark, the writing on the wall, the  _ Chamber of Secrets.  _ I’m not sure if I can chalk it all up to a prank.”

Regina rolls her shoulders. “No, I don’t think it’s a prank, as much as I would like it to be.”

“Then what do you suppose it is? A threat? ‘Enemies of the heir beware,’” Robin quotes. “Bit vague, if you ask me.”

Regina chews on her bottom lip. There are many times she wishes that she hadn’t been sorted into Slytherin, that she didn’t have intimate knowledge of the Dark Arts, that she had never accepted the title of Death Eater. And then there are the rare times that her past comes is useful. Like now. “It’s not that vague, actually. Not if you know what it’s referring to,” she says, walking a bit ahead just for the sake of being evasive.

“I take it you do know?” Robin guesses, catching up to her in one large stride.

“I’m surprised you don’t.”

“Enlighten me,” Robin urges with a cheeky grin, holding his glowing wand up to make a pun.

“And do your research for you? I’m sorry, I wasn’t aware we went back to school,” Regina teases, pushing his wand out of her face.

“This could be a matter of life and Petrification, professor,” Robin plays along. “Just think of poor Mr. Clark. I need to be aware of the grave threat plaguing our great school.”

“Mm, indeed you do,” Regina agrees as they turn another corner and coincidentally end up outside the door to her office and bedchambers. “Which is why I suggest you get reading.”

Robin feigns hurt while Regina smiles, stopping in front of her door. “I should have expected that answer,” Robin concedes, holding up his wand to read the placard next to the door. “Oh, this is you?”

“Yes. And considering we’ve seen neither hide nor hare of anyone nefarious, I think I’ll turn in for the night, if that’s alright with you.”

“Oh, of course. I’ll let Merlin know we’re all clear,” Robin says, stepping aside.

Regina quirks a smile and reaches for her doorknob. “Good night, Robin.”

“Good night. Um, Regina?”

“Yes?”

“Should… should we be worried? Do you think?” Robin asks a tad nervously, rubbing the back of his head. “I mean, I know it was just a dumb cat, but I can’t help but think… what if it wasn’t supposed to be? What if whatever or whoever did this was targeting something else? What if they were going after a student and just got Mr. Clark by mistake?”

Regina licks her lips. She’d be lying if she said that thought hadn’t crossed her mind too. “I would be a bit worried, yes,” she admits. “But Merlin will get to the bottom of it. He always does. And it seemed like he was getting Emma in on it too. The two of them? They’ll take care of it. There’s no one better.”

Robin nods, seemingly satisfied for the moment, and steps back from her door again. “You’re right. Good night.”

“Good night.” She goes to turn her doorknob again, but then-

“Regina?”

She huffs out a laugh. “Yes, Robin?”

“I’m glad we talked tonight.”

Oh, right. They had done that, hadn’t they? Aired all kinds of hurt and buried feelings for each other to smooth and soothe and comfort. And finally, somehow, after all this time, reached some kind of understanding. Who would’ve thought?

“I’m glad we did too,” Regina says softly, offering a small smile.

Robin smiles back at her for a long moment, and then starts slowly walking backwards down the hallway. “Good night, Regina. Sweet dreams.”

“Good night, Robin,” she murmurs, tucking a piece of hair behind her ear. She waits until he turns around and walks farther down the hallway before opening her door and slipping inside, shutting out what ended up being an extremely draining day.

* * *

 

Breakfast is abuzz the next morning.

Whispers and murmurs and rumors are tossed this way and that, and per David’s prediction, nearly the entire school seems to know what happened in the middle of the night.

But as Regina picks up bits and pieces of student’s exaggerated retellings of what they’ve heard, she notices that Henry’s name keeps… popping up.

“Grump’s been staring daggers at Colter all morning, ya see?”

“...found Henry Colter with his hands covered in red…”

“...doesn’t get expelled for that car, this will surely do him in…”

“...didn’t know Henry had it in him to do something like that…”

After the sixth time she hears Henry’s name float by, Regina turns to Mary Margaret, brow pinched. “Why is everyone talking about Henry Colter?”

Mary Margaret looks up from spreading cream cheese on a bagel. “I’d imagine because of what happened with Leroy’s cat last night.”

Regina shakes her head. “How did anyone find out he was there? I was positive that was kept confidential.”

Mary Margaret shrugs and turns back to her bagel. “I don’t know, Regina.”

Regina worries her bottom lip for a moment and then glances down the table. Robin looks half-asleep as he nurses a coffee. She pushes her chair back and stands, walking behind the other professors eating until she reaches Robin. “Hey,” she says quietly, tapping him on the shoulder.

He turns and brightens, waking up a bit. “Good morning.”

“Was there anyone in the common room last night when Roland and Henry went in?” Regina asks without preamble.

Robin thinks for a moment and then shakes his head. “No, not that I saw. Well, aside from Violet. Why?”

Regina exhales as she searches for Henry among the students. It’s not very hard considering nearly everyone is stealing glances at him every other second. He’s sitting toward the middle of the Gryffindor table with Roland next to him and Violet across. His shoulders are a bit hunched over as he obviously tries to ignore the sudden attention being thrown his way.

“Somehow, word got out that Henry was involved with what happened last night,” Regina explains in a low voice. “But I have no idea-”

She stops when she sees someone very out of place sitting at the Slytherin table. Professor Gold is leaning in as he talks to a group of his students, clear from their expressions that they’re hanging on every word. Whatever he’s saying must be intriguing, but then he looks up and locks eyes with Regina. A slow, smug smile spreads across his face and Regina just knows. 

Gold was the one to tell people that Henry Colter was found at the scene last night. He didn’t get the punishment he wanted when Henry was caught in the flying car. He didn’t get the punishment he wanted last night when he accused Henry of lying. But apparently informal punishment is just as good as formal punishment for Alastor Gold, and spreading vicious rumors fits the bill.

“Regina?” Robin says, snapping her out of her glare.

“Gold did it,” she seethes more to herself than anyone, knuckles turning white as she grips the back of his chair. “Of all the cruel, malicious things- and people question  _ my  _ morals? The  _ nerve  _ of that man- no, he’s not a man, he’s a weasel, one I’d like to drown in the Black Lake-”

Robin coughs dryly. “Good morning, Belle,” he interrupts, smiling pointedly as the Ravenclaw Head takes her seat beside him.

Regina snaps her mouth closed, cut short by the appearance of Gold’s sometimes complicated… girlfriend? Lover? Fuck buddy? Who the hell knows? “Morning, Belle,” she mumbles, ducking her head sheepishly.

Belle smiles kindly, either oblivious to Regina’s comments or just pretending to be. “Good morning,” she greets. “Did you both sleep well?”

“Yeah, but I was very tempted to put a muffling charm on my room,” Robin says. “Every time Grump passed my door on rounds he was wailing and crying and causing a whole ruckus.”

Belle giggles. “You know, I wonder if you would be so irritated by him if you hadn’t given him so much trouble during your school years.”

“Hey, he had it out for me!” Robin defends, holding up a finger.

Regina and Belle both roll their eyes just as Merlin comes in from the side door.

“It seems David was right,” Belle murmurs as the chatter in the Hall falls and then swells at the appearance of the Headmaster. “The entire school knows.”

_ Yeah, thanks to your stupid boy toy,  _ Regina thinks bitterly.

Robin lifts an eyebrow at her knowingly, but she’s given the chance to ignore him when Merlin bypasses the Head Chair and walks right over to the three of them. “Good morning, everyone” he says, clasping his hands behind his back. “It seems the student body has had quite an exciting few hours at the rumor mill.”

“I’ll say,” Robin mutters, picking up his coffee again.

“Regina, may I speak with you for a moment?” Merlin asks, gesturing toward the corner of the room behind the table, where they’ll be hidden from most of the students.

Why does everyone always want to speak with her? “Sure,” she answers, managing to hide most of her annoyance.

Merlin holds out a hand, allowing her to go first, but then he twists around and waves toward someone else. Regina glances back to see Emma standing from her chair, half a bagel in her mouth. Oh, so it’s going to be one of  _ those  _ speaking withs.

Regina reluctantly walks over to the corner, leaning back against the wall as Merlin and Emma approach. Emma smiles around a mouthful of food. “M’rng, R’thna,” she garbles.

Regina lifts the one side of her mouth in response. “Are manners not a requirement for working at the Ministry?” she asks dryly.

Emma swallows and grins. “They’re optional.”

Regina gets halfway through an eyeroll before Merlin speaks. “Regina, I trust it hasn’t gone unnoticed by you that we might have a bit of a problem on our hands.”

“What, you mean the rampant spread of false rumors throughout the student body  _ isn’t _ just an attempt to boost community among the Houses?”

Merlin gives her a patient look. “You and I both know that if we don’t sort this out soon, we’ll have a much bigger problem on our hands than whispers flitting around the classroom.”

Regina bites down on the inside of her lip. Yeah, big problems in the form of worried parents and terminated enrollments and Ministry inquiries and questions they don’t have answers to. And even worse, the possibility of another Petrification. “Yes, I know,” she admits, feeling a bit like a chastised student. “What exactly is ‘this’ though? Are we just sorting out a prank, or is it something more than that?”

Merlin and Emma exchange a glance. “Well, to be honest, we’re not entirely sure,” Emma answers. 

Regina looks between them. “What do you mean?”

Merlin inhales, exhales. “Last night, Emma and I were able to determine Mr. Clark was Petrified… but that’s all we were able to figure out. We couldn’t trace the curse, and we found no evidence at the scene, and as far as the Chamber of Secrets goes, well… you know the problems there.”

Regina rubs her forehead, sighing as she feels the beginnings of a migraine pinch behind her left eye. “So… what are you saying?”

“We’re stuck,” Emma says. “And we could use your help.”

“My help? Why me?”

“This would be the job of the DADA professor, and since I’m leaving soon, you’ll probably have to take on the investigation anyway,” Emma explains. “And we thought your experience might be helpful.”

Regina looks up sharply at that. “My experience? In what, the Dark Arts?” she snaps, because what other experience would she have that no one else would?

“No!” Emma is quick to assure, but then she looks down a bit sheepishly. “Well…”

Regina tries not to scowl, but fails a bit miserably. “So did you go through the entire list of former Death Eaters before you got to me or was I the first person that came to mind?”

“Regina, that’s not at all what-”

“Like hell it’s not,” she interrupts, too loudly. A few students turn their heads, but one stern look from Regina has them turning back around. “The  _ only  _ reason you thought of me for this, and the  _ only  _ reason you thought of me to be the DADA professor is because of my so-called ‘experience.’ Well, I’m not sorry, but my past is not for you to  _ use  _ when you need it.”

Emma has the decency to looks chastised, and thankfully shuts up.

“Emma, could you give us a moment?” Merlin asks.

She nods dutifully and steps back, heading over to talk to Belle a safe distance away.

Merlin turns back to Regina, an irritatingly calm expression on his face. “It’s not a slight against you, Regina,” he picks up. “And we’re certainly not using you. But as the future Defense Against the Dark Arts professor, and as someone who has incredibly unique and personal knowledge of the Dark Arts, we think you are the one best suited to handle this situation, whatever it ends up being.”

Regina exhales harshly, searching for a modicum of calm. She shouldn't have snapped, even if she had the right to. She has enough insecurity about her past to last a lifetime. For years, she's tried to forget about it and move on. She doesn’t need everyone telling her it's suddenly useful.

“Is there any reason other than my past that you want me to do this?” Regina asks. “Because if not, you can forget you ever asked me in the first place.”

Merlin smiles calmly. “Who better to turn to than our most brilliant professor?”

Regina gives him an unimpressed look.

“And there's no one I trust more,” Merlin adds. “You have my confidence, Regina, if for no other reason than I know you're capable of figuring this out.”

Well, that’s just great, isn’t it? Not only does the Headmaster think she’s capable of being the Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher, but he also thinks she’s capable of identifying an unknown source of Dark magic that not even he can figure out. Apparently the gods had suddenly gifted her with superpowers, and she was unaware of it. Or maybe a certain Sorting Hat had suddenly assigned her a whole new persona and now she’s being forced to live up to it. Pretending to be a Gryffindor is hard enough. Trying to actually live up to the House’s expectations is just going to end in disaster. It’s just going to end in everyone realizing that she’s a fake, that she does not and never did belong anywhere other than Slytherin, regardless of what Merlin and a tattered old hat say. The illusion has to end eventually.

But until then, she has to keep on pretending. Because that’s what Gryffindors do, right? They fight until the bitter end. Guess she better go down swinging.

“Alright,” Regina says on a exhale. She licks her lips. “Alright,” she says again. “I’ll look into it. See what I can find.”

Merlin’s smile grows. “Thank you, Regina. Like I said, you have my utmost confidence.”

Regina nods, swallowing against the ball of lead that has suddenly lodged in her stomach.

The bells chime from outside in the clock tower, and all at once the students start getting up from their tables, finishing the last bites of their food and gathering their things for the day.

“Oh my, look at the time,” Merlin exclaims mildly. “The day’s already started and I haven’t had my breakfast yet. Would you excuse me?”

Regina nods wordlessly again, gaze drifting over to Henry, Roland, and Violet as they rise from their seats. Countless pairs of eyes seem to follow them- or more specifically, Henry- as they exit the Hall, and suddenly, that ball of lead in Regina’s stomach transforms into a surge of motivation. She might be a fake, but Henry is as Gryffindor as they come, and she’ll be damned if she lets him become the scapegoat in this situation, regardless of the retributive malice of Alastor Gold. If everyone’s going to realize she belongs nowhere near Gryffindor House, at least she’ll be able to clear Henry’s name before she crashes and burns. Gryffindors fight until the bitter end, and if proving Henry’s innocence ends up being her last battle, then that will simply have to be the way she goes.


	8. Chapter 8

_ “You can do this.” _

_ “No, no, I really can’t,” Regina insists, turning around and trying to scurry back down the stairs. _

_ Robin grabs her by the shoulders and stops her in her tracks. “Regina, you can,” he tells her. “Trust me, you can. You have to.” _

_ “But-” _

_ “No buts,” Robin interrupts. “Tell me, what’s stopping you?” _

_ Regina looks down at her feet, a hint of a pout coming to her lips. She shrugs silently. _

_ “Are you afraid?” _

_ “No!” she exclaims loudly and a bit too suddenly. When Robin raises a knowing eyebrow, her shoulders slump. “Okay, maybe a little.” _

_ “What are you afraid of?” _

_ “Giant spiders, Dementors, my sister when she’s hormonal-” _

_ “Regina.” Robin looks at her sternly, patiently as he waits for her to admit it. _

_ She exhales, annoyed that he can see through her acts so easily. “Fine. I’m afraid… I’m afraid of how she’ll react. What if this is the last straw?” _

_ “If it’s the last straw, then thank Dumbledore for that,” Robin replies. “Maybe we can get you away from her for good. And if it’s not the last straw, then that can only mean she won’t be that mad, you won’t be worse for wear, and you’ll be happier. Nothing bad can come from this. Trust me.” _

_ Regina takes a deep breath and then nods. “Okay. Okay, you’re right. I can do this.” _

_ Robin smiles and nods, spinning her around by the shoulders. “Yes, you can. Now get in there and tell your mother you’re not taking Alchemy next year.” He gives her a gentle push forward into the owl tower, earning himself a laugh.  _

_ Regina looks back over her shoulder at him and shakes her head, unaware that as she turns to find her owl, Robin’s watching her with a proud smile and a bit of a dopey look in his eyes. _

* * *

 

First years really suck at flying.

He hadn’t noticed it before, but now, as Robin stands on the ground staring up at the two dozen Hufflepuffs and Ravenclaws haphazardly floating and twisting unsuccessfully in the air above him, he realizes just how much work they're going to have to do this semester. 

Had he been this bad when he first started flying? Surely not. At least he had the sense to sit frontways on his broom, unlike a particularly confused little Hufflepuff.

“Once you’ve reached a comfortable height in the air, try to fly around in a circle,” Robin calls up to his students. “Give yourselves room, don’t go bumping into each other now. Remember to lean forward, legs tucked underneath.”

They look like demented bumblebees and blue jays, he can’t help but observe, squinting against the bright afternoon sun. It’s not a very fair assessment, since they have only been flying for a few days, but he’s starting to think he’ll have to rework his lesson plans for the rest of the semester. He intended to have them trying out the quidditch equipment next week. That’s definitely not going to happen.

“Flapping your arms is not how you accelerate, Mr. Darling,” Robin shouts up to young Michael. “Use your shoulders, lean forward… that’s it, yes. Now tilt yourself to the left or the right to steer.”

A few students have managed to go in something like a circle, though some of them are merely spinning in place. Robin exhales slowly as he watches their uncoordinated movements. Maybe a circle was too much to ask of them so soon-

A streak of red catches his eye then, and he turns to see a blur of black and scarlet zipping through the air apart from the cluster of yellows and blues. A circle clearly wasn’t too much to ask of Roland Knight, and a Figure 8 clearly wasn’t either since he appears to have mastered both of those already in the matter of two classes.

Robin mounts his broom and ascends until he’s level with his students, keeping a safe distance between himself and a few of the more… erratic flyers (he’s gone  _ over  _ arm flapping already, hasn’t he?). “That’s very impressive, Mr. Knight,” he calls just as Roland’s about to pass, causing the young Gryffindor to halt and hover.

“Thank you, professor,” Roland says with a toothy grin. He’s a bit out of breath and his cheeks have a pink tinge to them, a combination of adrenaline and the September wind.

“I thought you said you’ve never flown before?”

“I haven’t, sir,” Roland answers. “This is only my second time.”

Robin raises his eyebrows. “Well, you certainly have a gift then. Are your parents exceptional flyers?”

Roland’s gaze falls, his smile dropping faster than a lead balloon. “I, uh… I wouldn’t know, sir. I never knew my parents. They’re dead.”

It’s a good thing Robin has a tight grip on his broom handle because otherwise he would have fallen straight off. Shit. “Oh, I’m… I’m sorry, Roland. I didn’t know,” he says, wondering if there’s a neon sign above his head that reads, ‘Absolute cad.’

Roland shrugs with one shoulder, a hint of his previous smile returning. “It’s alright, sir. Everyone else knows, I forgot you that you wouldn’t.” He forces more of his smile onto his face. “Besides, for all I know, they could have been terrible flyers. At least this way I can tell myself they were great.”

Oh, that’s grand, just break his heart some more. Robin tries not to look sympathetic, but it’s awfully difficult when he’s looking at such an innocent face with, evidently, such a tragic story. “I’m sure they were, Roland,” he says, offering half of a grin. “And I’m sure they would be very proud of you, too.”

Roland rolls his eyes good-naturedly, dimples deepening. “That’s what Professor Mills always tells me,” he sighs, as if it is a terrible nuisance. “She says that if I make myself proud, then my parents will be proud of me too.”

“That’s a good mentality to have,” Robin agrees. He glances around and then leans forward on his broom conspiratorially. “And I know for a fact they’d be proud of you right now since you’re the best flyer in the class,” he whispers loudly.

Roland’s smile grows into something genuine at that, his spine straightening and shoulders squaring. “Really, sir? You think so?”

“Oh, definitely. I bet it won’t be long before you can give your pal Henry a run for his money.”

“I don’t know about  _ that,”  _ Roland says. “Henry’s one of the best flyers in the whole school. He’s better than Merida Dunbroch, and she’s captain of the Gryffindor team!”

“And who says you can’t be just as good?” Robin counters.

Roland looks down, embarrassed. “It’s only my second day, sir. I think I’m still a long way off from there.”

“Professor Locksley, Michael’s got himself stuck in a tree,” a Ravenclaw girl calls as she shakily steers herself over.

Robin turns his head and sure enough, Mr. Darling has gotten himself stranded. He blows out a puff of air. “Right then. Keep practicing, Roland. You’re doing great.” He redirects his broom and flies over to the tree in question, wondering why these sort of problems weren’t included in his job description.

* * *

 

“Miss Kaylor, if you could take your seat, we can begin,” Regina says from her work table, hands on her hips.

Violet glances up at her and then hurriedly whispers something to Henry before returning to her own work station.

It takes a bit longer for the murmurs and side conversations to dissipate, irritating Regina for reasons other than her students being disruptful. They’re talking about what happened last night- Mr. Clark, the writing on the wall, Henry. It’s all anyone seems to want to talk about. Unfortunate for Regina, really, since she wants nothing more than to forget about it (not that she’ll be able to anytime soon.  _ Thanks for that, Emma. _ ).

One raised eyebrow is all it takes for the whispers to stop, and Regina exhales shortly. Maybe she’ll be able to get through a whole class period without having to hear about it.

“Please open your textbooks to page 17, and double check you have all the ingredients listed,” Regina says, doing her own once-over of all her supplies set out on her work table. She got out the ingredients for her students ahead of time, so no one should be missing anything, but chances are she missed a Flobberworm for someone.

“Is anyone missing anything? No? Okay, then let’s take a look at what we’ll be making today,” Regina continues, holding up a slim vial of purple liquid. “Sleeping Draught is a simple, but powerful potion that can render the drinker unconscious for a certain length of time, depending on how much is consumed. Sleeping Draught can be mixed into food or beverages, but it is usually easy to detect because it has a strong lavender scent. It is  _ not  _ to be confused with the Draught of Living Death. They both produce similar results, but Sleeping Draught is temporary and easily reversed. We will not be studying Draught of the Living Death until sixth year, if any of you choose to continue studying Potions after your OWL exams. Questions so far?”

She gets a few head shakes and several blank stares. Maybe some of them took a bit of Sleeping Draught in their breakfasts this morning.

“I’ll remind the ladies in the class to pull your hair back before we begin,” Regina says, tugging her own hair up into a ponytail. “Flobberworm mucus is a bugger to get out of your hair, trust me.”

“Now, I’d like you to turn your attention to step one: ‘Crush lavender sprigs and Standard Ingredient in mortar.’ It’s very important that you crush your lavender sprigs  _ completely,”  _ Regina instructs, grinding her pestle and mortar together. “Otherwise, your texture will be off and your Sleeping Draught will not brew properly.” She holds up her mortar to show her smooth lavender mixture. “Once you’ve completed that step, you can move on to the second and add your Flobberworm Mucus to your cauldron, but do  _ not  _ move past that until I’ve looked at your work.”

She sets her mortar down and wipes her hands on a towel. “Any questions before you begin?”

Most of her students look either bored or hungry, typical of the period just before lunch. She’d worry over the lack of questions, but Sleeping Draught is not a difficult potion to make and she’s found that students usually don’t have questions until they actually start  _ doing  _ anyway. She’s just about to tell them to get to it, when a tentative hand slowly rises from the middle of the classroom.

“Yes, Miss Kaylor?” Regina says.

Violet looks nervous- strange for her, she’s never been shy around schoolwork- as she glances at Henry across the aisle. “Professor… I was wondering if… if maybe you could tell us about… the Chamber of Secrets.”

Well then. So much for that.

All eyes in the room shoot to Henry and he looks down, obviously uncomfortable.

Regina bites the inside of her lip. “That has nothing to do with Potions, Miss Kaylor.”

“No, ma’am, it doesn’t, but seeing as you’re going to be the Defense Against the Dark Arts professor soon, I thought you’d be the best person to ask.”

“Maybe you should ask Colter, since he knows all about it,” Felix Young taunts from the back right.

“That will be five points from Slytherin, Mr. Young,” Regina says sharply. “I will not tolerate gossip and slander in this class.”

Violet twists around to glare at Felix and then turns forward once more, looking at Regina expectantly, patiently.

A sigh is teetering in the back of her throat, but Regina pushes it down and away. She’s heard quite enough about the Chamber of Secrets and the attack on Mr. Clark and Henry’s supposed involvement for one day, trying to squash untruths and false rumors that fly about like mosquitos in summer.

“The story of the Chamber of Secrets is a legend, Miss Kaylor,” Regina says. “It is not fact, and we only deal with facts in this class.”

Not to be deterred, Violet presses on: “But professor, isn’t it true that all legends are at least  _ based  _ in fact?”

It would be so easy to shut this down and move on. It really would be. But another quick glance at Henry shows him to be increasingly more uncomfortable under everyone’s questioning and accusing gaze. It makes her sick to think anyone would ever dream Henry had some kind of connection to whatever happened last night, and talking about it might just make it worse. But not talking about it could make it just as worse since gossip will continue to flow freely and unchecked. At least she’d be able to set  _ some  _ of the record straight, right? Her knowledge of… questionable subjects has to come in handy at some point, right? And Merlin did put her in charge of getting to the bottom of it, and that would include shutting down the rumor mill, right? Right.

“Oh, very well,” Regina gives in with a sigh, frowning at the entire class’s sudden burst of interest. If only they got this excited about Potions. “I will have you know, however, that the legend of the Chamber of Secrets has been incredibly sensationalized over the centuries and there is most likely absolutely no truth to it.”

Apparently that doesn’t matter at all to her students because they continue to stare at her, waiting.

Regina splits her ponytail in half and pulls on each side, tightening the band against her head. “Let’s see. Well, you all know the story of Hogwarts’ founding- over a thousand years ago, the four greatest witches and wizards of the age came together to build a school away from Muggle eyes to teach and foster the youth of the wizarding community. They were Godric Gryffindor, Rowena Ravenclaw, Helga Hufflepuff, and Salazar Slytherin- after which our Houses are so named.” She glances at the reds and greens which color her students’ robes and wonders if this was the best combination of Houses to tell this tale to.

Nevertheless, Regina continues, “For the first few years, the four founders got on fine, but a rift soon emerged when one of them wanted to be more selective about the type of students allowed to learn at Hogwarts.”

“Three guesses who,” Roland mutters from the second row.

Regina raises a warning eyebrow, causing him to look back down. “Salazar Slytherin believed that only students who came from purely wizarding families should be allowed to study magic,” she goes on. “He thought muggleborn students could not be trusted, and that they were not worthy to study magic. Eventually, a serious argument erupted between him and Godric Gryffindor on the matter, and Slytherin left the school.” Regina holds up a finger. “That much we know is historical fact. What comes next… well, that is where the legend starts.”

She pauses and clears her throat. “The story goes, that before Slytherin left Hogwarts, he built a chamber hidden somewhere deep in the castle and sealed it with blood magic so that it can only be found and opened by his one, true heir. His heir, supposedly, will then be able to unleash the horror within and cleanse the school of anyone found to be unworthy of studying magic.”

Complete silence follows her story, her students staring at her wide-eyed and enthralled. Regina swallows and tucks a strand of hair that had fallen out of her ponytail behind her ear. “Of course, that’s how the  _ legend  _ goes,” she clarifies. “Needless to say, the castle has been searched many times throughout the centuries and no Chamber has ever been found. We are certain it doesn’t exist.”

Violet throws her hand back into the air.

“Yes, Miss Kaylor?” Regina sighs.

“Professor, what exactly do you mean by ‘unleash the horror within?’ What is in- or is  _ rumored  _ to be in- the Chamber?”

Maybe it wasn’t such a good idea to talk about this. Of course that’s the question Violet would ask. She couldn’t get a simple one. For half a second, Regina considers closing the conversation and redirecting the class back to Sleeping Draught, but she opened this door. She can’t just leave it hanging. Rumors worse than the original legend would grow that way.

“The Chamber is said to be home to a monster,” Regina answers. “One that only the heir of Slytherin can control, but-”

Immediately, nervous and alarmed chatter erupts among the class, the students’ need to express their sudden concerns overriding their want to hear the rest of Regina’s explanation.

“ _ But-”  _ Regina repeats loudly, grabbing the attention of most of the class again. “There is absolutely no need to worry about it. I can assure you, there is no such thing as the Chamber of Secrets.”

John Darling’s hand shoots up.

“Yes, Mr. Darling?” Regina manages to say without grinding her teeth.

“But professor, if only the heir of Slytherin can find the Chamber, then no one else  _ would  _ be able to find it, would they?”

“Mr. Darling, if the greatest wizards and witches over the centuries have not found a Chamber, then there is no Chamber to be found,” Regina counters, pressing her palms flat on her work table. “Now, if we could all please return our attention to our Potions books-”

“What if you have to be related to Slytherin to find it though?” interrupts Grace Booth, a Gryffindor in the back row. “Then it wouldn’t matter how great a wizard you were- you wouldn’t be able to find it.”

“Miss Booth, like I said, if the likes of Merlin haven’t found-”

“But you’d probably have to use Dark Magic to locate it,” Avery Fletcher, a Slytherin, interjects from beside Violet. “And Merlin would never-”

“Just because a witch or wizard  _ doesn’t  _ use Dark Magic, doesn’t mean he or she  _ can’t _ , Mr. Fletcher,” Regina grits out in exasperation. “Now-”

“But you’d have to be a pretty powerful Dark Wizard to find something concealed by Slytherin himself,” Avery persists. “You’d have to be, like… like a Death Eater or something-”

“Enough!” Regina snaps sharply, slamming a palm down on her table. “How many times do I have to tell you- the Chamber of Secrets doesn’t exist! It has never been found, nor will it ever be found because  _ it is not real.  _ I do not want to hear another word on the matter, is that clear?”

Her eyebrows arch pointedly as she looks around at her class, daring them to continue on the argument. Luckily for them, no one speaks.

Regina exhales, harsh and short, ignoring the voice in the back of her head that says she’s a right shit teacher for yelling at them over innocent curiosity. That’s all it was- curiosity. Intrigue, for once, over a topic other than the latest quidditch stats or the newest edition of  _ Witch Weekly.  _ She shouldn’t have shouted, but she’s had it up to here with talk of myths and fairy tales. 

Regina glances at the clock on the wall behind her. “Now, seeing as we have wasted nearly a quarter of the class discussing nonsense, I’d advise you all to work quickly and quietly for the rest of the period, unless you’d like to come in tonight to finish,” she says authoritatively. She makes a show of running her eyes over each work station. “And it appears that not a single one of you has finished crushing your lavender sprigs. I would get to it, if I were you.”

At the threat of having to work longer than necessary, her students dive into their task, a low hum of whispers overshadowing the sounds of mixing and bubbling. The rest of the period passes without another mention of the Chamber of Secrets, thankfully, but as Regina walks through the rows of workstations to check her students’ progress, she can’t help but notice the hushed murmurs that quickly die as she approaches. By the time the period ends, she can only imagine the kinds of rumors now floating among her students. Maybe telling them one of the most controversial legends in the history of Hogwarts  _ wasn’t  _ the best idea.

After the bell rings and everyone is gathering their things to go, Regina calls Henry up to her workstation.

“Yes, Professor Mills?” he says, always polite even when he has every reason not to be.

Regina glances behind him to see Violet and Roland lingering by the door as the rest of the students filter out into the hallway. “Mr. Colter will be free in just a moment,” she calls back to his friends. “He will join you for lunch when we’re finished.”

Violet looks a little reluctant to leave, but she nudges Roland out into the hallway regardless.

Once they're alone, Regina looks back at Henry as he casts his eyes around the room, feet shuffling in nonchalance or insecurity, she’s not sure. “How are you, Mr. Colter?” Regina asks plainly, squinting her eyes a bit as she studies his face.

He looks up innocently. “I’m fine, professor.”

“Are you sure?” Regina challenges. “I can’t help but think you might not be, considering… what everyone’s been saying all day.”

Henry shrugs and looks down at his shoes. “People talk. Can’t really control what they say. Don’t worry, I’m used to it by now.”

A drop of pity coats Regina’s heart. He shouldn’t have to be used to it. It’s unfair. His whole life has been unfair. That bit of pity morphs into a swirl of guilt, one she has to swallow thickly to quell. “Yes, well, I want you to know that I know you had nothing to do with last night’s incident,” Regina assures him. 

There’s a flicker, just a flash, of  _ something _ on Henry’s face, there one minute and gone the next, too quick for Regina to really decipher it, but it’s enough to have her remembering the spark of doubt that had plagued her mind the night before. “Unless, of course… there is something you would like to tell me,” Regina prompts.

Henry shakes his head. “No, professor,” he answers. “There’s nothing.”

She can’t tell if he’s lying or not, but she wants to believe he isn’t, that he wouldn’t keep something from her, so she lets it go, despite the little flicker of skepticism still burning inside.

“Yes, well, like I said, I know you were not involved. So does Merlin. You won’t be punished for what happened, even if there are some who wish you would be.”

Henry looks back up. “You mean Professor Gold, don’t you?” he says. “He and Grump both think I’m guilty.”

Regina blows out a breath. “Gold and Grump have different views on punishment and guilt than I do,” she answers diplomatically. “But you needn’t worry about them. They have no authority in this matter. And I promise you, I will get to the bottom of it.”

_ You mean you  _ hope  _ you can get to the bottom of it. _

Henry nods and shifts his books under his arm. “Thanks, Professor Mills,” he replies with a quick grin. “Uh, I’ll see you tomorrow.”

Regina nods as well, watching a bit desperately as he leaves, feeling every bit the failure knowing she might not be able to keep her promise.

* * *

 

Robin practically runs straight into Henry as he rounds the corner, grabbing the boy by the shoulder to steady them both. “Sorry, Henry, I didn’t see you there,” Robin apologizes, stepping aside. “Heading to lunch?”

Henry nods. “Yeah, Violet and Roland are waiting for me.”

“Oh, then I won’t keep you,” Robin says, gesturing for Henry to move along. Robin takes one step in the opposite direction and then spins back around. “You haven’t seen Professor Mills lately, have you?”

“I just came from her class, actually,” Henry answers. “She should still be in her classroom.”

“Great, thanks. I’ll see you at quidditch practice.”

When he gets there, Robin knocks lightly on the doorframe of the classroom, making Regina look up from collecting ingredients off her students’ workbenches. Her hair is up in a ponytail, though several pieces have fallen out, and Robin can’t help but smile. If she had her black frame glasses, she’d look just like she did as a student. 

“Hey,” Robin greets. “Mind if I come in for second?”

Regina shakes her head, adding another pewter bowl to the growing stack in her arms. “No, not at all. You can help me clean up, actually. Can you wipe up any Flobberworm mucus off the tables? That stuff gets everywhere.”

Robin makes a face as he pulls out his wand. “What’d you need Flobberworms for?”

“Sleeping Draught,” Regina answers, jutting her chin toward rows of purplish vials sitting in holders along the windowsill. “The mucus has a powerful sedative in it. Luckily, no one was stupid enough to ingest any while they were brewing.”

“Ah, yes. Because it is incredibly difficult to resist the mouth-watering allure of Flobberworm mucus,” Robin teases, earning himself a heavy dose of side-eye and a resistant smirk.

“So did you need something, or did you just come in here to tell me how gross my profession can be?” Regina asks, setting the stack of bowls in the sink at the back of the classroom.

“I didn’t say it was gross, I just said the ingredients aren’t always the most pleasant,” Robin says, hovering his wand over a particularly sticky splotch of mucus and evaporating it into thin air. “And yes, actually I did come in here for something. I need to talk to you. About Roland.”

Regina turns the tap on and lets the water run over her stack of bowls, spinning around to face him while the steam works its own kind of magic with whatever concoction had been in the bowls. “What about him?” she asks. “He’s getting along fine in Flying, isn’t he? I was a bit worried about making the age exception for him this year, since he is still so small, but-”

“He’s doing fine in Flying,” Robin interrupts, tucking his wand away. “He’s doing extraordinary, actually. Best in the class.”

Regina smiles, a bit surprised. “Really?” she asks. “Oh, I’m so glad. He was so eager to finally try it, and I was hoping it’d work out for him. It nearly killed him last year when he wasn’t able to take it.”

“Yes, he’s quite skilled on a broom,” Robin replies. “It’s hard to believe he’s never flown before. Which is… what I need to talk to you about.”

“Oh?”

Robin nods and shoves his hands in his pockets. Why is it that whenever he has to talk to Regina, it’s about heavy subjects? “I said something to Roland today, about how he has a natural ability for flying. And I asked him if his parents were exceptional flyers, and… well…”

Regina’s face falls, solemn understanding coloring her features. “He never knew his parents,” she murmurs, pressing a hand to her stomach.

“Yeah, that’s what he had to tell me when I asked,” Robin says. “I felt like the worst person in the world.”

“That’s not your fault, Robin, you didn’t know,” Regina insists, shaking her head. “I should have told you.”

“I doubt it ever would have come up  _ for _ you to tell me,” Robin sighs, pulling out a stool from a workbench and sitting down. He runs a hand over his face, chest feeling thick at just the thought of what Roland’s life must have been like. “But  _ both  _ his parents are dead? How on earth did that happen? He’s too young for it to have been the war.”

Regina shakes her head again, twisting around briefly to turn off the tap. “It wasn’t the war, no,” she answers, leaning back fully against the sink. “We don’t know who his father is. No one has ever come forward, and no one’s been able to track him down. Whether he’s dead or just didn’t want to be involved, we’re not sure, but Roland’s caseworker thought it’d be better to tell him his father was dead and not that he didn’t want him.” Regina rolls her eyes. “I wasn’t involved when that decision was made, and it’s not my place now to tell Roland otherwise, but I do not think that was the right thing to do.”

“That’s certainly not what I would do, if it were up to me,” Robin agrees. “Why not let the lad have some hope that maybe his father does want him and is still out there?”

“My thoughts exactly,” Regina says. She tucks an errant piece of hair behind her ear and crosses her arms. “His mother died when he was just a baby,” she continues. “A hit-and-run in London. No one in the Wizarding community knew who she was, so the Muggle police took on the investigation, but they couldn’t identify her. Said she must have been undocumented, and that there was no way they could identify her home country. So Roland got put into Muggle foster care. When he started showing signs of magic around age four, Wizarding Child Services got involved and placed him with a Wizarding caseworker. He’s been in and out of group homes for orphans with magical abilities ever since.”

Robin shakes his head slowly, struck by the tragedy of the life of such a happy, optimistic boy. Never in a million years would he have thought someone like Roland could come out of a situation like that. “Why did he start Hogwarts so early, then?” Robin asks. “After such a hard life, I’d imagine it would take him even longer to be ready to start Wizard school.”

A flicker of irritation crosses Regina’s face. “That was my exact argument,” she explains, eyebrow arching a bit. “But Merlin was insistent. He… saw something in Roland, I guess. Something he wanted to have at Hogwarts. Either that, or he just wanted to get him out of the foster care system as soon as possible.” Regina shakes her head and sighs, turning around to pour the pooling water out of the stack of soaking bowls. “Again, I don’t think it was the right decision, but it wasn’t my place. And Roland’s gotten on just fine, all things’ considered. He’s adjusted amazingly.”

Robin nods. It’s true- aside from Roland’s age, he’s a typical Hogwarts student, and if he made it to his second year, then he obviously had the chops to make the grade in his first year. “He’s lucky he found the friends that he did,” Robin comments, thinking back to what Belle had said about the trio a few days ago. “Henry and Violet must help him tremendously.”

Regina nods, glancing over her shoulder at him. “Yeah, they look out for him,” she replies. “They work well together. You don’t think they would, but they do, and I’m grateful for that.” She pulls out her wand and points it at the semi-clean bowls. Slowly, the leftover bits of paste and ingredients melt off from the pewter, swirling into the sink and down the drain. Seemingly satisfied, Regina turns back around and tilts her head, studying Robin in a way that makes him feel a bit uncomfortable. “Don’t feel bad about it,” she orders.

“Feel bad about what?”

“Asking Roland about his parents,” Regina clarifies. “You couldn’t have known, and Roland knows that. I’m pretty sure he’s already halfway to idolizing you, so I promise he won’t hold it against you. So don’t feel bad about it.”

Robin holds up innocent hands. “Alright, I won’t,” he responds with a smirk, even though he will. Already does. Yeah, he didn’t know, couldn’t have known, but he still feels like an arse for bringing it up at all. He’ll figure out a way to make it up to the lad, though he’s not really sure what could possibly make up for reminding him his parents are dead or missing. “How has your day been?” he asks, creating an opening to shift to a more pleasant topic.

But the sudden scowl that claims Regina’s face makes him think maybe that wasn’t the right direction to go. “Awful,” she complains.

Robin risks a smile. “Oh come on, it’s barely lunch. It can’t have been that bad already.”

“Wanna bet?” Regina challenges, crossing her arms.

Robin swallows, recognizing the thin wire of Regina’s temper and remembering how easy it is to get caught in the flames when it snaps. “Well, from the look on your face, I don’t think that wager would go in my favor,” he attempts to jest, but Regina’s glare just grows sharper. “Want to tell me about it?”

Regina huffs and uncrosses her arms, reaching for her wand. “Fine, but let me clean up the rest of my room first. I don’t need to be surrounded by irritating things while I talk about irritating things.” She holds up her free hand and her wand, casting a spell throughout the room that causes leftover ingredients to fly back to their proper place in her cabinets, dirty tools to float over to the sink, and the small cauldrons to bob over to the hooks on the far wall, each one arranging itself under the label of its owner’s name.

Content, Regina tucks her wand back into her robes. “So, you want to know why my day has sucked?”

“Yes, please tell me what has you so vexed at… 12:34 in the afternoon.”

“Well, for starters, if I have to hear one more thing about the Chamber of Secrets, or Mr. Clark, or Henry, I’m going to turn a Bludger on myself.”

“Ah, so when I come up a Bludger short during inventory, I’ll know where to look?”

Regina glares again. “Not funny,” she mutters, pushing off from the sink and walking to the front of her classroom.

“Sorry,” Robin apologizes, spinning around on the stool to face her. “Kids won’t give it a rest, huh?”

“Not in the slightest,” Regina says, stacking a few textbooks into a pile. “Violet thought it appropriate to ask me in the middle of class to tell them about the Chamber of Secrets.”

“And did you?”

She looks a little ashamed as she admits that yes, she did. “I just thought it would help calm down the rumor mill,” she sighs. “If they know the actual legend, then they might stop making up exaggerated and dramatic stories. But I think I just succeeded in freaking them out more.”

“Hey, at least you set some of the record straight, right?” Robin reasons, rising and moving to stand across from her at her workstation. “You couldn’t predict how they would react.”

“Yeah, well… I think I just made my life more difficult,” Regina mutters, rubbing her temple.

It’s a weird time to think she looks particularly nice today, what with her being all stressed at the moment, but it strikes Robin just then that he rather likes the robes she’s got on. They’re black with red stitching along the hems that run up various lines in the skirt and loop around her waist. At the bottom, small shimmery gold circles intertwine and glimmer in the fabric. It’s quite the fetching look.

Robin clears his throat, because it’s a rather strange train of thought he’d gotten himself on, and refocuses his attention. “What do you mean?” he asks.

Again, apparently not the right direction to go, because Regina scowls again. “I’ve been tasked with getting to the bottom of last night’s attack.”

Robin raises his eyebrows. “Really? I thought Merlin and Emma were working on it.”

Regina barks out a laugh, humorless and annoyed. “Oh, they were. Until they fucking gave up two seconds in.”

Robin doesn’t say anything, waits for her to keep going. Trying to calm her down now would not end well for either of them. He’s learned it’s best to wait until the myriad of emotions warring through her fizzles out.

And sure enough, a few short breaths later, she is much calmer, though still visibly tense, as she explains, “They asked me at breakfast this morning if I would take over the investigation because they weren’t able to figure it out. Of course, they didn’t exactly spend a whole lot time working on it, so… not quite sure how they came to that conclusion.” She shakes her head. “So they decided to dump it on me.”

Robin opens his mouth, but Regina cuts him off before he can speak.

“If you say  _ anything  _ about this being good or an honor, I’m going to turn that Bludger right back around on you,” she warns with a pointed finger.

Robin smirks and holds up an innocent hand. “That is not what I was going to say,” he promises. “I was going to ask why you’re so angry about it.”

Regina looks down and picks at an imaginary string on her robes. “I just… I’m frustrated. Because the only reason they asked me to take over was because of my knowledge of the Dark Arts, or at least that’s what Emma hinted at. And the only reason they asked me to be the DADA professor was because of my experience with the Dark Arts. If it weren’t for my past, they never would have considered me for either thing.”

Robin furrows his brow. “What?” he says, incredulous. “You can’t possibly believe that.” 

Regina looks up at him like he’s suddenly grown a second head. “Of course I do. Why else would they ask me?”

Robin shakes his head, laughing humorlessly in disbelief. “Regina,” he says, “They asked you because you’re bloody brilliant.”

She rolls her eyes and they can’t have that, can’t have her not believing him about her own abilities, so Robin comes around to the other side of her worktable and ducks his head until he catches her gaze. “Don’t roll your eyes, it’s the truth,” he insists. “You’re the smartest, most capable person I know. And I’m sure Merlin and Emma see that. It’s why they asked you. There is no one better.”

“You sound like Emma when she asked me to be the DADA professor,” Regina grumbles, crossing her arms.

“See? It’s not just me,” Robin says with a grin.

Regina starts to roll her eyes again, but then stops and drops her arms to her sides. “And it’s not just  _ me _ , either,” she argues. “There are plenty of smart, capable teachers in this school.”

“They’re not you.”

“They’d do better than me.”

“Oh yeah?” Robin challenges, crossing his arms and leaning his hip against the table. “Name one person in this school who is better suited for either job than you.”

Regina shoots him an unimpressed look, but Robin stays adamant, raising his eyebrows expectantly, waiting.

Another eye roll later, and then Regina’s huffing out an, “Oh I don’t know… David. He’s a brilliant teacher.”

Robin hums and rubs his chin, considering. “Hmm… if I recall correctly, David couldn’t produce a Patronus until well into seventh year. Good at Charms, shit at DADA. Try again.”

Regina sighs, annoyed, and then says, “Okay… Ruby. She took down six Death Eaters at once.”

“Yeah, that’s because Ruby’s response to most kinds of Dark Magic is fangs and claws,” Robin counters. “Effective and intimidating, sure, but not very practical to teach to students. Try again.”

Regina chews on her bottom lip, glancing around the classroom as she thinks. “How about Killian? If we’re talking Dark Arts experience, he matches me there.”

Robin straight up laughs at that. “Killian? Now  _ that  _ I know is a joke,” he replies. “Killian tested into only  _ one  _ NEWT-level class, and it was Astronomy. Which, funnily enough, he already teaches. So, good try, but no chance.”

“Oh, for Dumbledore’s sake, I don’t know,” Regina exclaims in frustration, running her hands down her face. “Wait, yes I do. You.”

Robin raises his eyebrows. “Me?”

“Yeah, Mr. Founding-Member-of-the-Order-of-the-Phoenix,” Regina says. “You of all people would be perfect for these jobs.”

Robin holds up a finger. “First of all, just because I was in the Order, doesn’t mean I founded it. And second of all, being in the Order doesn’t attest to my skills in DADA. It just says what side I was on during the war. And  _ third  _ of all, I have been a teacher here for all of what- four days? You’ve been a teacher here for eleven years. To even suggest that I would somehow be more qualified for a position is ludacris.”

“Yeah, but you-”

“Regina, stop,” Robin says, putting his hands on her shoulders and squeezing. “Stop trying your hardest to discredit yourself.”

“But I’m not-”

“Yes, you are,” Robin insists. “Alright? You  _ are  _ brilliant, and you  _ are  _ qualified. Just because other people are capable, doesn’t mean you aren’t too. And I can prove it to you. Who produced a Patronus in third year because she was bored?”

Regina looks down at her feet as she mumbles, “Me.”

“And who brewed her own batch of Felix Felicis because she didn’t think our professor did it right?”

Regina’s lips twitch at that memory, a pouty little smile that she fights hard against. “Me.”

“Uh huh. And who scored an ‘Outstanding’ on all of her OWLs?”

Regina exhales. “Me. But that’s not special- people get perfect scores on the OWLs all the time.”

“No one else in our year certainly did,” Robin counters. He ducks his head to meet her eyes, smiling until she lets herself smile back. “Would you like me to keep going? Or are you thoroughly convinced of your competency now?”

Regina blows out a breath. “Well, at this point, I’m not entirely sure how competent I am when it comes to figuring out what happened last night.” She reaches for a book at the bottom of the stack on the table and hands it to him.

Robin takes it and flips to a dog-eared page toward the middle. She’s trying to shift his attention from talking about how wonderful she is, and it doesn’t escape Robin’s notice, makes him almost positive they’ll be revisiting this subject in the future, but she obviously doesn’t want to talk about it anymore. So he drops it and looks down at the page she had marked. “‘Legends and Myths About Hogwarts,’” he reads off the top of the page. “Ah, I see it’s from your favorite-  _ Hogwarts: A History.” _

“Yeah, well, a chapter about fairy tales is the closest I’ve gotten to the Chamber of Secrets,” Regina sighs. “And the only thing that book’s told me is what I already knew.”

Robin skims down the page, furrowing his brow when he reaches the part about the heir of Slytherin. “‘Only Slytherin’s true heir will be able to control the horror within the Chamber to purge the school of anyone unworthy to study magic,’” he reads. “So, enemies of the heir beware… I take it that’s what you meant when you said the threat wasn’t that vague.”

Regina nods. “Someone knows their Hogwarts lore. I’m assuming the writing on the wall was just a scare tactic, but the Petrification of Mr. Clark certainly was not. Merlin was right- that takes a very high skill and intricate knowledge of the Dark Arts. I can’t think of a single student with the ability to do something like that.”

“Maybe it wasn’t a student,” Robin says, looking up. He snaps the book closed and sets it down on the table, scratching his chin as he thinks.

“You think a teacher might have done it?” Regina asks a bit skeptically.

“Not only that, I think a teacher might have done it and then tried to frame a student for it,” Robin theorizes, thinking back to the smug smirk of a certain Slytherin Head.

Regina blinks. “Gold? You think Gold did this?”

“With the intention of framing Henry for it,” Robin reiterates. “Think about it, Regina. He wasted almost no time in spreading the rumor about Henry around the school. Last night, he was absolutely positive Henry was responsible even when we told him there was no way he could have done it. Of all the possible suspects, Gold makes the most sense, doesn’t he?”

Regina chews on her bottom lip. “I mean… yes, he does, but that’s a huge accusation to make, Robin. We can’t just throw it out there without any proof.”

“Well, then I guess we better start looking for some,” Robin says with a grin, picking up the stack of books.

Regina cocks an eyebrow. “We?”

“Looks like you’ve got yourself a partner, Professor Mills,” Robin announces cheekily, knowing it will get a smirk out of her and feeling triumphant when it does.

“I don’t remember asking for one,” she replies coyly, taking half the books for herself.

“You didn’t.”

Regina rolls her eyes for the millionth time, but she’s smiling as she does it, genuinely, and that was all Robin had wanted since he walked in the room. “Fine,” she sighs dramatically. “But if we figure this out, I get to take most of the credit.”

“ _ When  _ we figure this out,” Robin corrects. “When we figure this out, you can take all the credit you want.”

“Deal,” Regina agrees. She smiles at him for a long moment, and Robin seizes the opportunity to appreciate her robes again, and the little locks of hair that have fallen out of her ponytail. It’s a weird place for his thoughts to go, but he can’t help thinking again that she looks rather stunning like this, in her classroom, surrounded by what she loves, smiling at him in the way only she can.

Like the night before, the bells outside interrupt their little bubble.

“We should… probably get lunch,” Regina says, tucking a piece of hair behind her ear.

“Oh, yeah… uh, let’s hope John didn’t swipe all the buttered rolls again,” Robin jokes, leading the way out of her classroom.

Regina laughs as they walk and Robin smiles helplessly, quite pleased with himself that now he has an excuse to spend much more time with her.


	9. Chapter 9

_ “What’s the matter, Regina? You seem upset.” _

_ Regina sighs and looks up at the painting of the Young Queen hanging on the wall in front of her. It’s late, she should be in bed, but like many nights, sleep has evaded her. So she’s here, in the corridor just beyond her common room, talking to someone who isn’t even real. The woman in the portrait smiles encouragingly, patiently. _

_ “He didn’t come to my presentation,” Regina admits, hating how easily tears fill her vision. “He said he would, he knows how hard I worked on it, how proud I was, and then he just… didn’t come.” _

_ The Young Queen tilts her head sympathetically. “Maybe something came up?” she suggests. “Maybe he had a test, or-” _

_ “No, that wasn’t it,” Regina interrupts, shaking her head. “I asked him why he didn’t show, and it was because of  _ her.”  _ She says it with such venom, such anger that is surprises even herself. “Tink invited him to throw around on the quidditch pitch and then he just lost track of time.” Regina laughs bitterly. “Or at least, that’s what he said. He probably just didn’t care about me anymore once she flashed her stupid smile and flipped her stupid hair.” _

_ “That’s not true,” the Young Queen says. “He cares about you, Regina. I know he does.” _

_ “Not as much as he cares about her,” Regina mumbles, brushing away an annoying tear that slips down her cheek. “Ever since she transferred here, she’s all he thinks about.” _

_ The Young Queen is quiet for a moment, Regina’s sniffs the only noise in the silence. “Have you ever thought about telling him how you feel?” _

_ Regina’s eyes widen as she shakes her head. “No, I could  _ never  _ do that. It’d be too embarrassing.” _

_ “What’s so embarrassing about caring for someone?” _

_ Regina sighs. “It’s not…  _ that.  _ It’s that I know he doesn’t feel the same way.” _

_ “How can you be so sure?” _

_ “Because I’m not blonde, and I don’t play quidditch, and I don’t have a stupid Australian accent,” Regina snaps, immediately regretting her tone at the way the Young Queen shrinks. “Sorry,” she murmurs, looking down at the floor. “I’m just upset.” _

_ “I know,” the Young Queen empathizes. “But don’t worry. I know he’ll come around eventually.” _

_ Regina nods sullenly, hating what has become the persistent refrain when it comes to Daniel: eventually. Maybe one day, she’ll tell him. Maybe one day, he’ll realize. And maybe one day, she won’t stay up at night crying over what could be, but isn’t. _

* * *

 

“You’re mad at me.”

Emma states it as a fact, not a question, and the certainty of her tone has Regina looking up from her dinner plate.

“I don’t know what gave you that impression, Professor Swan,” Regina says, reaching for a platter of green beans just to have an excuse to look away.

She can feel the strength of Emma’s eye roll without glancing back up. “Oh, I don’t know,  _ Professor Mills,  _ maybe the cold shoulder you’ve been giving me since breakfast? Or the glare you’ve been sending my way anytime we’re in the same room? You’re mad at me, Regina. Admit it.”

“I never said I wasn’t. I simply asked what gave you that impression,” Regina replies obstinately.

Emma huffs, annoyed, and yanks out Anton’s vacant seat from the table, dropping down onto the chair with all the grace of a bow-legged goose. “You’re pissed at me for this morning,” Emma says, just as certain as before. “Because I dumped this mess on you.”

_ Well, you’re not wrong.  _ Regina turns an arched eyebrow on her. “I’ve never been afraid of messes, Professor Swan. My reorganization of your closet is a testament to that.”

Emma’s gaze flies heavenward once more. “You know what I mean. You’re mad because I dropped this on you and then brought up your past. Which-” she holds up a finger- “I’m sorry about. I shouldn’t have said what I did.”

Regina returns her attention to her dinner, focusing a bit too much on cutting her chicken breast into even cubes. “Yes, well, we can’t change the past, can we?” she offers cordially. “What you said this morning was proof of that.”

“Regina-”

“No, Emma, you were right,” Regina interrupts. “My experience in the Dark Arts is something I will never be able to get away from, and it’s valuable in this situation. You would have been remiss to ignore that. You were just doing your job. So, no. I’m not mad at you.”

Emma’s eyes narrow. “Is that so?” she asks suspiciously.

Regina nods and takes a bite of chicken. “Mmhmm.”

Emma studies her for a long moment before crossing her arms. “Fine,” she says. “I don’t believe you, but fine. You clearly want to drop it, so I will.”

Regina stays silent as she spears another piece of chicken with her fork. As much as she hates to admit it, what Emma had said this morning was right. Despite what Robin may think, her past is not something she’ll ever be able to get away from, and all of her other “qualifications,” as he had put it, cannot stand alone without accounting for her dark history. She may be smart and capable, but she’s also tainted. Haunted by the mistakes of years ago. She would be naive to think anyone could simply forget that, or that she could ever escape it.

“Have you found anything yet?” Emma asks, clearly willing to drop half the subject, but not all of it.

Regina gives her a patient look. “Well, considering you dumped this on me  _ this morning,  _ and I’ve had class for  _ most  _ of the day, I think the logical answer would be no.”

“Right, okay, you’re obviously in a mood, so I’m going to leave you to your dinner and hope that you won’t Transfigure me into a toad when I see you tomorrow,” Emma says, standing up and turning to leave, only to immediately drop back down into the chair like a lead balloon.

Regina turns toward her in surprised confusion, furrowing her brow as Emma makes a conspicuous effort to make herself inconspicuous by hiding her face behind her hand. “Can I  _ help _ you?” Regina asks a tad indignantly, irritated by Emma’s absurd behavior.

“Shh!” Emma hisses, angling herself so she’s facing Regina completely, her back turned to half the table. “Don’t draw attention to me!”

“I think you’re managing to do that all by yourself,” Regina comments dryly, peering over Emma’s shoulder to see what could have possibly sparked a rather elementary display. There aren’t many professors eating yet, it’s still a bit early for dinner, but at the far end of the table, Regina sees the one person who could have elicited such a reaction from Emma. “Oh Dumbledore help me, what’s going on between you and Killian now? I thought you two had gotten your acts together,” Regina groans, rubbing her temple to fend off the headache that is her friend’s relationship problems.

“Yeah, I thought so too, and then he went and ruined it,” Emma whispers, as if Killian could possibly overhear them from all the way down the table.

Regina sighs and sets her utensils down, resigned to the fact that her dinner will probably go cold before she hears the end of whatever this has turned into. She clasps her hands together and rests her chin on her interlocked fingers, looking at Emma expectantly. “Well, are you going to tell me or not? I need my biweekly dose of ‘Emma Has Commitment Issues.’”

Emma scowls. “I do not-” She stops herself short, mouth scrunching to the side as she reconsiders. “Okay, maybe I do. But, I mean, he  _ knows  _ I do. That’s why he should know better!”

“Okay, so what happened?”

Emma blows out a breath and runs an anxious hand through her hair. “He… he asked me to move in with him.”

Regina raises her eyebrows. “He did?”

Emma nods, worrying her bottom lip with her teeth. “Yeah. Since I’ll be moving out of Hogwarts soon anyway, he said that instead of finding a new place, I should just move into his. He has a flat just outside of Hogsmeade where he stays on holidays, and he said he could move there through the school year too, instead of here, and then we could… live. Together.” Emma cringes as she looks up. “I didn’t handle my reaction very well.”

Regina reaches for her wine glass. “What did you say?” she asks, taking a sip.

“I broke up with him.”

Regina chokes on her drink, sputtering into her glass before setting it down and coughing repeatedly. Emma brings a hand up and smacks her on the back in an attempt to clear her airway which makes Regina glare through her struggle to catch her breath. “You  _ what?”  _ she manages, voice tight due to lack of oxygen.

“I broke up with him,” Emma repeats, reaching for an unclaimed glass of water and handing it over.

Regina takes it gratefully and drinks, calming the irritation in her throat. “What in Dumbledore’s name possessed you to do that?” she asks, placing the water back on the table. “Does fear of commitment make you stupid or something?”

Emma scowls and crosses her arms. “No. Come on, Regina, you know me. I’m not a ‘move-in-together-get-a-dog-send-Christmas-cards’ type person.”

“So that’s grounds for  _ breaking up  _ with him?”

“Well, I mean, it’s clear we want two different things, and-”

“Oh hell, is that what you told him?”

Emma looks at her feet a bit sheepishly. “Yes…”

Regina runs a hand down her face. “Emma. You don’t want two different things. You both want each other, don’t you?”

“I mean… yeah, but-”

“So you want the same thing,” Regina continues. “You want to be together. You just disagree over how  _ much  _ you should be together. Right?”

“I… guess…”

“So meet in the middle somewhere,” Regina advises. “Instead of throwing the whole thing away, like you impulsively did, find a compromise. That’s what relationships are anyway.”

“Funny, but I can’t really see how there can be a compromise over living together. Unless we just decide to live on the street between our two houses,” Emma snarks back.

Regina rolls her eyes. “Funny, I didn’t realize I was your relationship planner,” she snips. “I meant, find a compromise over  _ when  _ you’re going to take that next step. Instead of rushing into it in the next two weeks, maybe ask to wait a little bit? Killian would move the moon for you if you asked. I’m sure he wouldn’t mind putting this off until you’re ready.”

Emma chews on her bottom lip. “What if I’m never ready for it though?”

Regina reaches for her wine glass again. “I do believe that is something you need to ask yourself, dear. There’s no point in staying in a relationship if you don’t see it going anywhere. So you need to sit down and figure out if you’ll ever be willing to make that big of a commitment to him.”

Emma sighs and rakes both hands through her hair. “Yeah. I guess you’re right. I mean, I do love him, but-”

Emma freezes as the blood drains from her face. Her eyes go wide as she looks at Regina, whose face is splitting into a shit-eating grin. “I didn’t say that.”

“Yes, you did,” Regina says, pleased as punch over her friend’s Freudian slip.

“No, I didn’t. I- I meant- I  _ like  _ him, not-”

“Sure about that?”

“Oh, Dumbledore help me,” Emma mutters, burying her face in her hands. She stands suddenly, shaking her head. “I’m going to my chambers. I need a drink. Or maybe a Draught of Living Death. I’ll decide when I get there.”

Regina chuckles to herself as Emma walks away, in the opposite direction of Killian’s place at the table. For a minute, she forgets she was ever mad at her, but then she catches sight of Grump sulking past the entrance to the Great Hall, and she remembers exactly why her day had been shit up to this point. Regina’s smile dims then, dipping into a bit of a scowl. She wants to still be angry with Emma, but she can’t really justify being mad about her simply pointing out a fact. In truth, she should be thanking Emma for reminding her of reality. Every now and then, she can pretend that what happened all those years ago is long forgotten or that it never even took place. But then something like this happens, and her past rears its ugly head again, and any little bubble she had formed around herself bursts.

Regina shakes her head at her own foolishness and downs the rest of her wine, grateful that there aren’t too many students in the Hall yet to see her consuming more alcohol than food at dinner.

“I see your shit day hasn’t gotten much better,” Robin says as he steals the seat Emma has just vacated.

Regina sets her empty glass down on the table, grimacing. “What gave it away? My facial expression or the sudden turn toward alcoholism?”

“Mm, a bit of both,” Robin replies, subtly pushing her wine glass out of reach. “But considering the circumstances, I think you’re forgiven for both. Did you make up with Emma?”

Regina raises an eyebrow. “Spying on me, were you?”

“No, but I couldn’t help but notice the two of you talking,” Robin answers. “Especially since Killian kept looking down this way. I don’t even want to know what’s going on there.”

“Stupidity, that’s what,” Regina sighs. “And to answer your question, I did make up with Emma. Sort of.”

“Sort of?”

Regina shrugs. “I just told her I wanted to forget it and move on. It’s not worth getting upset about.”

Robin frowns. “Regina, you’ve been upset about it all day. Clearly, it was worth something to you. She’s your friend and she brought up a part of your life she knows you don’t like remembering. You need to tell her that.”

“She knows I was angry with her, but it’s just easier to put it behind us,” Regina dismisses. “I have enough to worry about without Emma Swan’s lack of a filter.”

Robin’s frown deepens, but Regina ignores it. “How was quidditch practice?” she asks before he can say anything more.

“Oh, just grand,” Robin says with an eyeroll. “Look.” He pulls up his right sleeve to his shoulder, revealing a nasty, purpling bruise on his bicep..

Regina gasps. “What happened?” she asks, touching his injury gently. The muscles in his arms are…  _ defined,  _ and her cheeks flush as she pulls her hand away. He’s certainly come a long way from his scrawny student days.

“One of the Hufflepuff Chasers nailed me with a Quaffle,” Robin explains, shrugging his sleeve back down. “Turned me halfway around on my broom. I don’t really know what she was aiming for since I was nowhere near the rings, but she got me nonetheless.”

“Here, let me heal it,” Regina says, reaching into her robes for her wand.

Robin shakes his head. “Nah, don’t worry about it. It’s not worth the magic.” He reaches over and nicks a green bean from her plate. “So what are you doing tonight?”

“Why?” Regina asks, eyes narrowed as she wields her fork in defense of her dinner. 

“Because if you weren’t doing anything, I thought you might want to do some investigating.”

“Investigating?”

“Yeah. You know, go around, talk to people, see if anyone saw or heard anything last night,” Robin says. He glances over his shoulder and lowers his voice. “Maybe find out if anyone noticed anything that could connect Gold to the attack.”

Regina looks beyond Robin at the man in question, sitting at the far end of the table and frowning into his food. Luckily, she had seen very little of him today, but it was impossible to escape the effects of his meddling in the spread of rumors about Henry. Regina returns her attention to Robin. “I don’t know if talking to anyone will do much good,” she says. “No one’s going to want to throw Gold under the bus. Not if there’s a chance he might find out.”

Robin cocks a cheeky grin. “Who says he’s going to find out?”

Regina gives him an unimpressed look. “It’s Gold. He finds out everything.”

“True, but I have a feeling the people we’re going to talk to won’t care about that,” Robin counters.

“And what makes you so sure?”

“Just trust me,” Robin assures her, smirk growing. “I’ll meet you outside the Gryffindor Common Room, say around 9 o’clock?”

Regina glares at him suspiciously for a moment longer, then sighs and nods. “Fine. 9 it is- oh, wait. I have detention with Colter and Knight.”

“I’m sure Killian would love to take them. He said he has to clean his telescopes, and could probably use the help.”

“You want me to pawn my students off so I can go on a witch hunt with you?”

“No, I want you to take a break from being a disciplinarian and have a hopefully enlightening night of mystery and intrigue.”

Regina rolls her eyes. “Okay, sherlock. Whatever you say.”

“So is that a yes?” Robin teases.

“That’s a fine,” Regina corrects. “A begrudging fine.”

“But a fine nonetheless,” Robin points out happily. He stands and pushes in his chair. “I’ll see you at 9, professor.” And with another smirk and a wink, he heads back down to his end of the table.

Regina rolls her eyes, subconsciously wondering why she’s smiling when she’s supposed to be annoyed.

* * *

 

Regina Mills is a beautiful woman. She was always pretty, even as an awkward little eleven-year-old, and that beauty has never left her, despite the turmoil she’s been through. It was one of the first things Robin noticed when he came back to Hogwarts- that regardless of the time gone by, Regina is still as breathtaking as he remembers. 

It must be something about the candlelight which illuminates the hallway, about the soft glow of a flame at night, the flickering dance across her face, that has him taking a moment to stare at her unnoticed, as he ascends the stairs to where she’s waiting for him outside the Gryffindor Common Room. She’s gorgeous, always, but he can’t help but appreciate her now, as the warm light reflects in her eyes, weaves with the strands of hair fallen from her ponytail, glints off the golden circles on the bottom of her robes. It gives her a peaceful sort of appearance, despite the anxious pinch between her eyebrows.

It’s that pinch that has Robin shaking himself out of his reverie. He blames the candlelight- it has a way of bringing out the poet in him. They have a job to do, and a mystery to solve, and poetry won’t help them in either case.

Robin climbs the last few stairs and loops around the banister, making himself known and drawing Regina’s attention.

“You’re late,” she states, eyebrow arching.

“Au contraire, professor,” Robin replies. “I said we’d meet here around 9 o’clock, and considering it is only 9:05, I do believe that still counts as ‘around.’”

Regina rolls her eyes in spite of the tugging smirk at the edge of her lips. “Smartass,” she mutters.

“You’d rather I be a smartass than a dumbass,” Robin points out.

Regina gives into her smirk. “True,” she agrees. “Okay, Mr. Smartass, what’s the plan? Who are we talking to?”

Robin gestures behind her and with a hand on her back, ushers her forward a few paces until they’re standing in front of the large wall of living portraits just to the right of the Fat Lady, the painting which acts as the passageway to the Gryffindor Common Room. “I thought here would be a pretty good start,” Robin says.

Regina turns to look at him, eyebrow raised. “The portraits?” she asks, surprised.

“Who better to turn to for information than the people who see everything?” Robin explains. “I thought we could talk to the ones closest to the different Common Rooms and near where the attack occurred. With all those eyes and ears, someone was bound to see or hear something, right?”

Regina takes a second and mulls it over, chewing on her bottom lip, before nodding slowly. “I… guess that could work,” she says cautiously. “And you don’t think they’ll care about Gold possibly finding out?”

“Regina, when was the last time you saw Gold taking time to talk to a portrait?” Robin asks. “He doesn’t bother with them. He thinks they’re beneath him. Trust me, they won’t give two Knuts about what Alastor Gold might say.”

“We can hear you, you know,” the Fat Lady chimes in, waving her pink fan in irritation.

Robin gives Regina a reassuring wink and then steps closer to the wall. Most of the people in the paintings are asleep or paying them no mind, and Robin would raise his voice to get their attention, but he doubts they’d be very cooperative if he woke or disturbed them. Temperamental beings, portraits are. So he turns to the Fat Lady, and gives her a charming smile.

“M’lady,” he greets, bowing at the waist. “It’s been a long time, hasn’t it?”

Now that Robin’s attention is fully on her, the Fat Lady’s annoyance seems to have disappeared. She giggles and blushes, fluttering her fan. “I heard you were back at Hogwarts, Robin,” she says as she bats her eyelashes. “I was wondering when you were going to come talk to me. You didn’t say anything to me last night when you came by.”

Robin nods, but keeps his thought to himself that getting Roland back safely was more important than the whims of a woman made of oil paint. “Yes, I apologize for my rudeness. There was a lot going on.”

“Oh, I heard,” the Fat Lady exclaims. “Positively frightening, isn’t it? I never would have thought Henry Colter to be so malicious.”

“Henry had nothing to do with it,” Regina interjects assertively, stepping forward, arms crossed.

“That’s not what everyone else is saying,” the Fat Lady argues, giggly demeanor sliding into something like distaste when she looks at Regina.

“Well, everyone else is wrong,” Regina snaps. “Henry could never do something like that.”

“Henry’s involvement is just a rumor,” Robin explains. “We know he had no hand in what happened to Mr. Clark.”

“Well, if he didn’t do anything, then who did?” the Fat Lady asks.

“That’s what we were hoping you could tell us,” Robin replies. “Did you see or hear anything strange last night? Anyone unusual walking around? Between, say, nine and ten o’clock?”

The Fat Lady waves her fan slowly as she thinks. “Hmm… no, I can’t say that I did. The only unusual thing that happened was Roland Knight and Henry Colter coming back later than normal, but they’ve been doing that for a few nights in a row now.”

“They have detention for a month,” Regina says.

The Fat Lady cocks an eyebrow. “Henry Colter has detention for a month but you think he isn’t capable of attacking Grump’s cat?” she asks, unconvinced. “Why does he have such a long detention in the first place?”

“For… stealing a car, but-”

The Fat Lady barks out a laugh, rolling her eyes. “Yes, he’s  _ definitely  _ not capable.”

Regina’s ears grow red as she purses her lips, and Robin runs a quick hand down her back before stepping forward again. “So aside from Henry and Roland coming back, you saw nothing else?”

“No,” the Fat Lady sighs, leaning against the chaise in her painting’s background. “But, to be fair, I wasn’t paying that much attention. I was too busy trying to get spiders off my frame.”

“Spiders?” Robin echoes.

“Oh, yeah. About seven or eight of them came crawling right across my surface last night, all at the same time,” the Fat Lady says. “Scared the living daylights out of me.”

“Has that happened before?” Robin asks.

“Not that I can remember.”

Robin glances at Regina questioningly, but she just glowers back. Apparently, the Fat Lady’s put her in mood. Great. “Well, thank you, m’lady,” Robin says. “You’ve been a tremendous help. If you remember anything else, let us know, alright?”

“Of course, Robin, anything for you,” the Fat Lady gushes, flirtatious smile returning to her face. “And don’t be a stranger, now. I’m always around to talk or…  _ not  _ talk. Come by anytime.” She winks, and Robin smiles politely.

“I’ll be sure to say hello more often,” he promises. “Have a good night.” He places a hand on Regina’s shoulder and leads her toward the stairs as the Fat Lady calls farewell after them. He can feel the irritation rolling off Regina in waves as they descend the steps, so he squeezes her shoulder placatingly. “She never was one for tact,” he sighs, hoping he can salvage Regina’s attitude.

“If she wasn’t the passageway to my common room, I would have fried her on the spot,” Regina seethes. “I can’t believe even the fucking  _ portraits  _ think Henry is guilty.”

“All they know is what everyone’s been saying,” Robin reminds her. “Don’t worry about it. By the time we’re finished, everyone will know the truth.”

“That’s assuming we can figure out the truth,” Regina grumbles as they reach the bottom of the stairs.

Robin frowns and grabs her hand to stop their walking. “Hey, now, none of that,” he says. “We’ve just started looking. And we’re off to a pretty good start. We already have a suspect.”

“Yeah, a suspect based on a hunch and no proof,” Regina argues. She shakes her head. “I’m sorry. I should be more positive, but…”

“It’s hard, I know,” Robin sympathizes. “Don’t give up just yet. We’ve still a lot of ground to cover. I’m sure we’ll find more answers before the night is through.” He tilts his head in the direction of the kitchens. “Let’s see if the Hufflepuff portraits have anything to say.”

Regina nods and leads the way, smiling briefly to try to maintain an air of optimism, but Robin can still feel the stress radiating from her shoulders. “What do you think about the spiders the Fat Lady mentioned?” he asks. “It sounded kind of strange.”

“It sounded like the Fat Lady being dramatic,” Regina replies. “Like always. There was probably one spider and she freaked out. Or, there were a few over the course of the night because autumn is coming and the temperature is dropping, and bugs come inside when it gets cold. I’m sure it’s nothing.”

Robin runs a hand through his hair as they round a corner. “Well, let’s hope some of the other paintings give us something more useful.”

* * *

 

They don’t. No one saw anything, no one heard anything, and each one seems to think Henry was somehow involved. By the time they approach the corridor that leads to the dungeons and the Slytherin Common Room, Regina has just about had it with Alastor Gold, his stupid rumors, and this fruitless witch hunt. She’ll admit it- Robin’s plan was a good one, but neither one of them had realized how oblivious the majority of the paintings are. Of course, if her only concerns in life were assuring she was hung on the wall straight and her paint wasn’t chipping, Regina would probably choose to ignore the outside world too.

“I’m starting to see why Gold doesn’t bother talking to the paintings,” Robin grumbles as they pass by several sleeping images, looking for any that might still be awake. “Useless, all of them.”

“Oh, I don’t know, I thought that one with the knight by the Ravenclaw Common Room was pretty helpful,” Regina teases.

Robin shoots her a glare. “You just liked him because he was flirting with you. And because he told me my quidditch form was rubbish. Honestly, he’s made of  _ paint.  _ What does he know about proper quidditch technique?”

Regina laughs as they reach the end of the corridor and the top of the stairs which lead to the dungeons.

“And of course, the paintings which might have actually seen Gold last night are all asleep,” Robin sighs, titling his head back in exasperation. “I’m sorry, Regina. I thought this would be more productive-”

A hint of movement in one of the portraits grabs Regina’s attentions. “Wait, they’re not all asleep,” she interrupts, moving toward a painting she knows well that depicts the interior of a bedroom in a medieval castle. The furnishings are ornate, and the furniture luxurious, but the grand bed is empty and quiet save for the soft brushing of the canopy as the thin curtains billow around it. The scene is devoid of people, but that doesn’t stop Regina from quietly calling out, “Your Majesty? Are you there?”

There’s no movement in the painting as Robin comes up behind her. “No one’s there, Regina,” he says.

“She’s there, just be patient,” Regina insists, keeping her eyes on the painting. “Your Majesty? It’s me, Regina. I’d like to talk to you for a few minutes, if it’s alright.”

Still, nothing.

“She probably heard you,” Regina whispers to Robin. “If she appears, let me do the talking, okay?”

Robin nods, confusion obvious on his face.

“The man you heard is just my friend Robin,” Regina explains. “He’s very nice, I promise. Won’t you please come speak with us? It’s important.”

Another few seconds pass and Regina’s just about to give up when suddenly, a young woman peers around the edge of the painting, looking at them timidly. “Regina?” she says, stepping into the scene fully. She’s dressed in a white, flowing gown, like always, her brown hair falling loosely down her back. A shimmering gold tiara rests on her head. She tucks a curl behind her ear. “Is that you?”

Regina smiles, ducking her head in a short bow. “Yes, good evening, Your Majesty. How are you?”

The Young Queen glances at Robin then down at her shoes. “I’m fine,” she answers. “How are you?”

“We’re both fine, thank you,” Regina replies, heart clenching at the sight of the shy royal before her. “You’re up late.”

“I couldn’t sleep,” the Young Queen explains quietly. “I usually can’t.”

“Yes, I know,” Regina murmurs, thinking of the countless, sleepless nights she herself has spent wandering the halls of Hogwarts, nights that often saw her ending up here, in front of this painting, talking to the Young Queen. “Your Majesty, this is my friend Robin Locksley. He was a student here, and he just became the new quidditch master.”

Robin steps forward and bows. “Your Majesty. It’s a pleasure to meet you.”

The Young Queen visibly blushes and ducks her head, offering a small smile in return. “Thank you. You as well.”

“We were hoping we could ask you something,” Regina says. “About the incident that happened last night.”

“You mean the attack on the caretaker’s cat,” the Young Queen guesses, sitting at the chair by her vanity.

“Yes, on Mr. Clark,” Regina confirms, grateful that at least someone didn’t immediately associate Henry with what happened. “Last night, you didn’t see anything unusual, did you? Like, someone walking around who shouldn’t have been?”

The Young Queen fiddles with her skirt, picking at the fabric. “Well… I… I don’t think I did.”

Regina glances at Robin. He nods, urging her to press on.

“Are you sure?” Regina asks. “If you saw anything, even if you don’t think it has to do with the attack, we’d really like to know about it. We’re trying to figure out who did this so we can stop them from doing it again.”  _ And to stop these bullshit rumors about Henry. _

The Young Queen bites her bottom lip, unsure, and then exhales. “I don’t know if it’s relevant,” she says. “But last night, Professor Gold left his chambers right at eight thirty. I thought it was odd, because normally, once he comes back from dinner, he stays in for the night. But he left right when the bells were tolling outside for half past the hour, and then he didn’t return until almost midnight.”

Regina raises her eyebrows, turning to Robin in alarm. He looks practically giddy, eyes wide with excitement. “Was he acting strange?” Robin asks. “Was anyone with him?”

“No, he was alone,” the Young Queen answers. “He seemed in a bit of a hurry when he left, and he did look angry when he returned, but that’s not really unusual for him. He’s always angry.”

“He was upset that Henry and Roland didn’t get punished,” Robin whispers in Regina’s ear.

She nods, stomach fluttering with the knowledge that they might actually be looking in the right direction. “Thank you, Your Majesty, you’ve been a huge help,” Regina says. “Would you mind doing us a favor?”

The Young Queen shakes her head. “Of course not.”

“Can you keep an eye out for Professor Gold? Pay attention to his movements, like when he leaves his chambers and when he comes back?”

“Yes, I can do that,” the Young Queen agrees. “I won’t have to talk to him, will I?”

Regina shakes her head. “No, you won’t. As a matter of fact, could you keep this to yourself? We’d like to be discrete about it.”

“I won’t tell a soul,” the Young Queen promises. She bites her bottom lip again, shyness returning. “Regina… is there something dangerous going on at Hogwarts?”

Regina exhales, shaking her head slowly. That’s the question, isn’t it? Is this something they have to be worried about? Is it more than one isolated incident? They don’t have all the facts yet to figure out an answer, and if tonight is any indication, the hunt for the truth will be a slow, frustrating journey. “I hope not, Your Majesty,” Regina answers honestly. “I really hope not.”

They leave the Young Queen to her peace then, bidding farewell and promising to return in the next few days for any updates. Portrait investigating finished, they start to head in the general direction of their respective chambers. As they walk, Regina’s skin prickles under Robin’s not-so-subtle gaze. She knows what he’s going to ask, so she beats him to the punch. “I’ve known the Young Queen since I was a first year,” she explains.

“You’ve never mentioned her before,” Robin comments, hands clasped behind his back.

“She’s a very… private person,” Regina says. “I didn’t want to make her uncomfortable by talking about her with my friends.”

“That’s very thoughtful of you.”

Regina nods, worrying her teeth over her bottom lip. “I’ve always had trouble sleeping, for whatever reason, and so has she. I used to sneak around the corridors at night, taking walks, when I couldn’t sleep, and every time I passed her painting, I noticed she would be awake too. So I stopped and spoke with her one night, and after awhile, we became friends.”

“Must have been nice for you, having a friend who wasn’t an obnoxious teenage boy,” Robin chuckles.

Regina hums a laugh, nodding. “You have no idea,” she agrees. She grows quiet for a moment, struck by the memory of the many nights that she wouldn’t just talk to the Young Queen, but cry in front of her too, confessing all the troubles that were plaguing her heart and mind. “The Young Queen, she… understood me. We both felt trapped. Me by my mother, and her by her painting. It was nice to have someone who knew where I was coming from. Someone who I could talk to.”

Robin stops her then with a hand on her elbow. When Regina turns to look at him, she’s surprised by the worried look on his face. “What’s the matter?”

“Regina… did you feel like you couldn’t talk to me?” he asks, visibly vexed by the thought. “Like you  _ can’t  _ talk to me? Because you can. You could. Always. Then and now. I’m here. I know I wasn’t for a long time, but-”

“Robin,” she interrupts him, cupping his face with her hands. “I know. Of course I felt like I could talk to you. You were one of my best friends. But sometimes it was nice to go to someone who wasn’t you or Daniel or Will. Especially when I needed to complain about you three idiots.”

That draws a smile out of him and he nods, stubble scratching her palms. “Alright. As long as you know I’m here,” he sighs when she drops her hands from his cheeks.

“I do,” she promises. “Now. Walk me back to my chambers so I don’t get attacked by the great invisible danger that is plaguing the castle.”

Robin chuckles and leads the way, both of their steps a bit lighter now that they actually have something to support their hunch about Gold.

The next morning at breakfast, however, their little sliver of evidence is dashed to pieces.

Regina is spreading jelly on a bagel when Belle approaches, looking a tad uncomfortable. “Uh, Regina? Could I speak with you for a moment?”

Regina looks up in surprise before nodding and setting her food down. “Of course,” she says, gesturing toward Mary Margaret’s empty chair. “Have a seat.”

Belle glances around quickly. “Um, actually, can we go somewhere a bit more private?”

Regina furrows her brows as she stands cautiously. “Sure,” she answers, every bit unsure over Belle’s fidgety demeanor. They duck into the side corridor just off the Head Table, away from the rest of the faculty and the bleary-eyed students eating breakfast. “What’s up?” Regina asks, crossing her arms.

Belle glances around again, seemingly to make sure they’re alone, and then takes a deep breath. “I heard you’re investigating Alastor,” she states, and Regina’s stomach bottoms out.

“What- how- where did you hear that?” she stammers.

“Sir Gadwin told me this morning,” Belle explains.

“Sir- oh, Dumbledore’s arse, that stupid knight in the painting by your common room?” Regina cries. When Belle nods, Regina lets out a frustrated huff. “I  _ knew  _ he was too smooth-talking to be trusted.”

“I know you think Alastor had something to do with the attack on Mr. Clark because of the rumors he started about Henry, but I promise you, he was nowhere near the location of the incident when it happened,” Belle says, brow pinched in concern.

“And just how would you know that?” Regina asks, rubbing her temples.

“Because… he was… with… me… when it happened,” Belle says, cheeks turning a bright red as she cringes. “We were… together.”

Well, fuck.

Literally, apparently.

Gross.

Regina swallows her disgust before it has a chance to color her face. “You mean he was with you right up until all the professors were called to Merlin’s office?” she asks, managing to keep her tone mostly polite.

Belle nods. “Yes. He couldn’t have done it, Regina, I swear. I’m sorry I didn’t say anything earlier, but I didn’t know you were investigating him until this morning, and we wanted to keep this between us. Please don’t say anything,” she pleads.

Regina exhales, long and slow, closing her eyes for minute because she evidently went to bed late last night for absolutely no fucking reason. “I have to tell Robin,” she says honestly. “He’s my partner on this, so he needs to know.”

“Right. Of course. But after him, please, no one else?”

Another exhale. More frustration. “No one else,” she promises.

Belle gushes her thanks and then hurries back out to the table, leaving Regina with a rolling stomach at the knowledge that she has to tell Robin they actually have nothing and are no closer to figuring this out than they were two days ago. If this is the life of the Defense Against the Dark Arts professor, she is starting to seriously reconsider her decision.


	10. Chapter 10

_ Regina huffs, annoyed, as she climbs the bleachers of the quidditch pitch. “ _ There  _ you idiots are,” she exclaims, glaring at Daniel, Robin, and Will from where they sit all in a row, staring out toward the pitch. “I’ve been waiting to go to lunch for twenty minutes. Come on, chop, chop.” _

_ Robin is the only one who looks over when she approaches. “Oh, hey, Regina,” he says, scooting over so she can sit beside him. “What are you doing here?” _

_ Regina makes a face, looking at the spot Robin had made for her and obstinately standing. “I just said. It’s lunchtime. I was looking for you three losers. Come on, let’s go.” _

_ “Yeah, we will in a minute,” Will answers, not bothering to turn away from the pitch. _

_ Regina rolls her eyes. It’s Wednesday. There’s always flounder at lunch on Wednesday, and she is starving. She doesn’t have time for whatever stupid quidditch thing has engrossed them today. _

_ “Whoa, did you see that?” Daniel asks, obviously impressed. “She just did a perfect Finbourgh Flick!” _

_ Regina’s stomach drops.  _

_ She? _

_ Regina turns to see just what is so fascinating and sucks in a breath at the sight of the two people flying around the pitch. Ruby Lucas is on one of the brooms, obvious by the bright red streaks in her dark hair. The other girl, she doesn’t recognize. All she can see is a head of curly blonde hair and green robes billowing in the wind. A laugh like a Christmas bell carries on the wind and hits Regina like a knife to her eardrum. The blonde girl has a Quaffle in her hand and from the way she handles it, it’s obvious she’s quite skilled at quidditch. _

_ “Who is that?” Regina asks, keeping her eyes on the girl has she makes a pass around Ruby. _

_ “Ivy Bell,” Robin answers, turning his head to look up at Regina. “She’s new, just transferred. From Australia, I think.” _

_ “Come on, Tink, go easy on me!” Ruby shouts as this Ivy girl gets the Quaffle around her and through the center the ring. _

_ “Why’s Ruby calling her Tink, then?” Regina asks, glancing down towards Daniel and feeling sick at the enthralled look on his face. _

_ Robin shrugs. “Dunno. Nickname, maybe?” _

_ Tink, or Ivy, or whoever the hell, grabs the Quaffle again and must do something absolutely spectacular with it because Daniel jumps to his feet and starts clapping, even going so far as to whistle. _

_ Regina swallows, throat suddenly thick. _

_ “Wow, that was incredible!” Daniel exclaims, looking over at Robin and Will. “She’s amazing!” His gaze slides over to Regina then and he furrows his brow. “Regina? What are you doing here?” _

_ Her breath stops for a second. Had he really not even noticed she was here? “Lunch,” is all she can manage to say. _

_ “Oh, right!” _

_ “Well, come on then, lads,” Robin says, standing up and slinging his school bag over his shoulder. “I’m starving.” _

_ “You guys go on ahead,” Daniel insists, waving them off and turning back toward the pitch. “I’m going to watch a bit longer.” _

_ Will shrugs and stands, jumping down one level on the bleachers to head toward the stairs. Robin turns to go as well, but stops when Regina stays unmoving, staring beyond his shoulder, at Daniel still sitting there. “Hey,” he says, grabbing her attention. “You coming?” _

_ Regina blinks once and then looks up, nodding slowly. “Yeah… let’s go.” She turns and walks down the stairs, Robin just behind her, leaving Daniel to watch and marvel over the new girl. Suddenly, Regina’s not so hungry anymore. _

* * *

 

Regina has always found the sound of a fire crackling in the fireplace soothing. It reminds her of when she was little, of nights spent staying up late past her bedtime, curled up in her father’s lap in the oversized armchair in his study. He would read to her, stories of myths and legends, tales of great witches and wizards of old, until her eyes would droop closed and her dreams would fill with the wonder of the magic weaved by his words.

It’s been ages since those nights, and feels even longer since she last heard her father’s voice, but the memories carry with them an instant calm found in the slow burn of a fireplace at night.

Robin’s snoring, however, not so much.

Regina glances up from her book at a particularly loud exhale from her research partner and shakes her head. Robin had fought valiantly against sleep for most of the evening, but just past midnight, she had looked over to find his eyes closed and his head on the table beside his half-read book. She can’t blame him for being exhausted, they’ve had a long two weeks after all, and tomorrow is arguably his biggest day of the year, so she decided to let him sleep and do her best to reach the end of her chapter despite the distraction of his snores.

But now, her candle has very nearly melted to the bottom, her book has one chapter remaining, and she has nothing to show for her late night efforts. Sighing, Regina closes the dusty tome and pushes it away, the leather cover scraping against the wood of the table. She rubs her eyes, pressing hard for a few moments until colors explode behind her eyelids, and then blinks them open, squinting slightly against the glow of the fire. It’s nearing one in the morning, according to the clock above her mantel, so she should be heading to bed and waking Robin to make him do the same, but she can’t quite bring herself to move.

It’s quiet here in her study, peaceful and calm despite Robin’s snores, and she’s loathe to move from the content little bubble they’ve made for themselves, locked away from outside pressures, voices, and opinions. Here, they can just focus on what they need to do. Here, they don’t have to worry about anyone interfering with the truth they are trying to uncover. Here, it’s just them and their books and the fire.

But tomorrow is Robin’s big day, and he needs proper rest, so Regina reaches over and gently shakes his shoulder. “Robin,” she murmurs. “Robin, wake up.”

He stirs slightly, his face scrunching up in a pout that makes Regina smile. “Robin,” she says again, louder. “You need to wake up.”

He grumbles something unintelligible, but Regina shakes him harder and then he startles, shooting straight up in his chair and looking around wildly.

“What? What’s the matter?” he asks, fumbling with his robes to find his wand.

“Nothing, nothing,” Regina says, keeping her hand on his shoulder to calm him. “You fell asleep.”

A second passes and then Robin exhales, tension leaving his body as he relaxes back in his chair. “Oh,” he sighs, rubbing his face with his hands. “What time is it?”

“Almost one,” Regina answers, pulling her hand away. “You should head back to your chambers. You need to get some rest for tomorrow.”

Robin yawns and nods, closing his book with a thud. “Right, yeah. You didn’t find anything, did you?”

Regina shakes her head, glancing at the stack of answerless books on the table. “Nope. I’m thinking we might want to talk to David. He might have some archaic books about weird spells and charms.”

“Good idea,” Robin agrees, standing up and stretching. 

“You didn’t get anything, either?” Regina asks, even though she knows the answer. It’s the same answer they’ve had since they started.

“No,” Robin replies, gesturing toward the book that had put him to sleep. “Although, I did learn five different ways to cast a tickling charm. But nothing for Petrification.”

Regina exhales and runs both her hands through her hair. Ever since their Gold theory fell through, finding a Petrification spell has been their new goal. Unfortunately, all they’ve found are the various creatures with the ability to Petrify, like Gorgons and Basilisks. And Dumbledore knows they don’t have any of those lying about the castle. 

“This is ridiculous,” Regina groans, tugging on her hair in frustration. “I’m going to be the Defense Against the Dark Arts professor in  _ two days.  _ I should  _ know  _ this kind of stuff.”

“Hey, Emma was the DADA professor for six years and she doesn’t have an answer,” Robin argues, sitting back down in his seat. “You can’t know everything. Besides, that’s what books and research are for.”

“Yeah, and a lot of good they’ve done,” Regina mutters. She shakes her head. “I think we’re close to a dead end.”

“Okay, then we’ll turn our broomsticks around and try a different way,” Robin says plainly, as if it were obvious, as if it were  _ simple.  _ “You said we should talk to David. I agree. He might have some ideas on spells that we didn’t think of. I also think we should talk to Belle. She might know if something like this has ever happened before, or she might know more about the Chamber of Secrets, something that might help us.”

“The Chamber of Secrets is a myth,” Regina sighs, rubbing her temple, those words sounding like a broken record by now.

“Doesn’t mean it can’t be helpful,” Robin counters. “We need to hit every angle here.”

“Don’t you think I know that?” Regina snaps, dropping her hand from her temple to the table with a slight bang.

Normally, people shrink away from her anger, but Robin merely raises an eyebrow, unimpressed. She wants to yell at him more, wants to scream at him until her frustration fizzles out, but he doesn’t deserve it, and she’s tired. They’re both tired, and shouting will accomplish nothing.

Regina swallows her irritation down, and exhales slowly. “Sorry,” she mumbles. “You’re right. It can’t hurt to talk to Belle. But we need to keep it quiet. We don’t need anyone finding out we’re investigating a ghost story.”

“Of course,” Robin agrees. “My lips are sealed.”

“It’s not  _ your _ lips I’m worried about,” Regina says. “Secrets have a funny way of getting out in this school. It’s like the walls have ears.”

“Well, between the ghosts and the portraits, I suppose they do have ears. And eyes, and mouths, and noses that they like to stick places they don’t belong,” Robin jokes, dimples deepening as he grins.

Regina allows herself to smile despite the hopelessness settling in her gut, and then glances at the clock. “It’s late,” she says. “You should be heading back.”

Robin nods, and stands. “Yeah. Big day and everything.” He looks at the books on the table. “Do you want help putting these away?”

“Oh, no, it’s fine. I’ve got them,” Regina dismisses, standing as well and following him to the door. “Thank you, by the way. I’m sure you had more exciting plans for your Friday night than sitting in my study, reading books.”

“Nonsense,” Robin says. “A quiet Friday night with you? There’s no place else I’d rather be.”

Regina ducks her head because her cheeks start burning all of a sudden, and since when does she blush at something so stupid? She glances up to catch a wink Robin throws her over his shoulder, and then he’s bidding her good night and she’s alone with the sound of the fire.

* * *

 

The mornings of quidditch matches are always threaded with a sense of excited energy, but the morning of the  _ first  _ quidditch match, the yearly opener, is always coated with a special sort of thrill, like a firecracker with a lit fuse just waiting to explode. The hum of conversation in the Great Hall is louder, the students’ faces are brighter, and even the professors are vibrating with anticipation.

Opening Day is one of the best days of the year.

And it’s even better this year, because Gryffindor has the honor of the playing in the first game, a rematch of last year’s “Snow Bowl” against Hufflepuff, a game that took place in December in the middle of a blizzard. Regina isn’t a fan of professional quidditch, but even she isn’t immune to the thrill of Hogwarts matches, especially when her team has a very good chance of winning the Cup this year.

So when she enters the Great Hall that morning, she wears her gold and scarlet robes with a bit more pride, even if the red fabric is a good deal brighter than what she usually wear.

“There she is, the woman of the hour,” Ruby crows when Regina takes her seat. “The Head of House of the future Quidditch Cup winners!”

“Here, here!” Emma agrees, raising a glass in Regina’s direction. Her robes are even redder than Regina’s, complete with large blocks and lines of shiny gold. “Let’s get this season started off right!”

Regina tilts her glass toward Emma and smiles. “Shouldn’t be too hard. We are playing Hufflepuff, after all.”

“Hey!” David says, standing from farther down the table.

Regina nearly snorts out her coffee at the sight of him. “Oh my god,  _ what  _ are you wearing?” He is decked from head to toe in canary yellow with one large stripe of black down the middle of his back.

David glances down at himself. “My House colors,” he defends, crossing his arms.

“You look like a walking banana,” Regina says, earning a glare.

“Well, you look like a fire engine,” David shoots back. “I don’t think I’ve ever seen you wear that much red.”

“At least I don’t look like I’m trying to outshine the sun.”

“At least I don’t look like I fell from a tree.”

Regina blinks. “What?”

“I… I’m trying to say you look like an apple,” David explains, a bit awkwardly.

“Oh, so you’re saying I’m fat?” Regina instigates, knowing that’s not really what he meant, but relishing in his flustered look anyway.

“What? No! I-”

“An apple is round, so that means you’re saying I’m round too,” Regina states.

“No! I just- I mean, you’re definitely not round. You… you look very nice, I just-”

“Why, David Nolan, does your wife know you go around complimenting other women?” Regina asks, faking astonishment and smiling at his stammering.

“That’s not- I don’t-”

“Relax, David,” she says. “I was just messing with you. You know, showing you what it’s liked to get owned by a Gryffindor so you can relate to your team later.”

“Hey!” David whines to a chorus of snickers from Emma and Ruby. Mary Margaret pats him on the shoulder as he sits down in his seat with a huff, reminiscent of a pouting child.

“Don’t mind her, David,” Killian chimes in from the other end of the table. “She’s all talk now, but just wait until Slytherin knocks Gryffindor off their brooms. Then she’ll have nothing to say.”

“Neither will you, because Ravenclaw is going to reclaim the title that  _ should  _ have been theirs last year,” Belle says primly as she takes her seat.

“Still holding a grudge about that, French?” Killian goads.

“I’ve said it before and I’ll say it again- the only reason Slytherin won the championship match was because they  _ cheated,”  _ Belle states, eyebrows raised. “The only way they can win is if they play dirty.”

“Oh, come off it. Just because your Keeper got injured-”

“From a Bludger to the face!”

“-Doesn’t mean there was any cheating going on,” Killian defends.

“Yes, well, I’m just glad Robin is the referee now,” Belle says, spreading butter on her toast. “I know he will not allow any rule breaking or unfairness to go on.”

“Actually, I was thinking of taking on a more anarchist approach,” Robin counters as he walks into the room. “You know, let all hell break loose and just hope nobody dies.”

Regina looks up as she pours some milk in her coffee and nearly misses her cup at the sight of Robin in his referee uniform. He doesn’t have the whole thing on, he’s missing the black athletic robe that goes over top, but what he does have on is enough to make Regina pour entirely too much milk into her coffee. He’s wearing tan flying pants that are tailored almost too well with a black sweater that hugs tight around his arms, showcasing the very biceps that had made her flush a few weeks ago. His hair is a bit messy and his cheeks are tinted pink, evidence that he’s already been out to the pitch this morning, probably to ensure everything is ready for the match.

Regina’s stomach flutters as she stares, her coffee overflowing slightly onto the table. She jerks when she realizes she’s still pouring milk into her cup and quickly sets the bottle down, looking away from Robin before she’s caught. She swallows as she reaches for a napkin to wipe up the spill, her cheeks burning a bright red. She’s seen Robin in a quidditch uniform loads of times before. Since when does that make her blush?

“Well, if it isn’t the most popular man in the castle today,” Killian declares, holding up his coffee mug in a mock toast. 

“Check your facts, Jones,” Robin says, grabbing an empty mug. “I’m  _ always  _ the most popular man in the castle.”

Any retort Killian has is cut off by an appreciative whistle from Ruby. “Well, looks like someone can finally fill out their quidditch uniform,” she catcalls, eyes wandering over Robin as he bypasses his usual seat for Anton’s vacant one beside Regina.

Robin chuckles good-naturedly. “I believe I will take that as a compliment,” he says, reaching for the sugar cubes and grinning at Regina in greeting.

She smiles back briefly and then looks down at her coffee, praying that her cheeks will stop burning. She wonders briefly how he looked in his Harriers uniform, when he played professionally, and she just has to push that thought out of her mind if she wants her blush to go away anytime soon.

“You sleep alright?” Robin asks, spooning some blueberries onto his plate.

“Huh? Oh, uh, yes, I did,” Regina stammers, reaching for her knife and fork to cut up her French toast. “What about you? Make it back to your chambers okay?”

Robin nods, sipping his coffee. “Yep. Didn’t sleep too well, though. Came down with a sudden case of nerves about today.”

“You’re nervous?” Regina asks, daring to look at him and exhaling in relief when her stomach doesn’t immediately flip.

“Honestly? Yeah, I actually am,” Robin admits. He pops a blueberry into his mouth. “I’ve never reffed an official match before, and having my first time be at my alma mater? On a pitch I used to play? Yeah, it’s made me a little jittery. Especially since I know how seriously quidditch is taken here.”

“Well, those things shouldn’t make you nervous. They should make you excited,” Regina says. “You  _ loved  _ playing quidditch for Hogwarts. And now you get to oversee students who love it just as much. I know they’re all really excited to have you on the pitch with them.”

“Really?” Robin asks, hopeful.

Regina nods. “Yeah, my team has been talking about you since you got here. You could probably call a million wrong fouls and they would still love you.”

Robin breathes out, shoulder loosening slightly. “Well, thank goodness for that. Of course, let’s hope I  _ don’t  _ call a million wrong fouls, but that does make me feel better.”

Regina pats him on the arm reassuringly and immediately regrets it because there are those biceps again… and there goes her stomach. She pulls her hand back and tucks her hair behind her ear, glancing up at the students just in time to see Henry walk in dressed in his quidditch uniform. “Look, there’s Henry,” she says, tilting her head in his direction. “Doesn’t he look like Daniel in that uniform?”

“Practically the spitting image,” Robin agrees. He huffs out a laugh. “Looks like I can’t get away from Colters on the Hogwarts pitch.”

“I can’t wait for you to see him play,” Regina replies. “He’s so good, Robin. Daniel would be ridiculously proud of him.”

“I bet he and Tink both would be,” Robin sighs, a bit wistfully. “You just know they would be at every single match, cheering at the tops of their lungs.”

“I can just imagine the crazy face paint and hats Daniel would sport,” Regina laughs. “He would be  _ that  _ parent.”

“Oh, I have no doubt,” Robin chuckles. “But what about you, Professor Mills? Do you get loud and intense when you cheer?”

“I-”

“Yes,” Emma and Ruby both answer from a few seats down.

Regina scoffs, glaring indignantly. “I do  _ not  _ get intense-”

“You told Killian you were going to Transfigure his nose into a pig snout during the playoffs last year,” Emma counters. “All because he cheered when Slytherin went up by a goal.”

“Well,  _ he  _ got obnoxious first,” Regina defends, crossing her arms.

“Make sure you look over every now and then, especially when something goes against Gryffindor,” Emma says to Robin. “It’s funny.”

“I’m not going to have to throw you out for excessive rowdiness, am I?” Robin teases.

Regina punches him playfully on the shoulder. “No, now shut up.”

“That didn’t exactly help your case,” Robin laughs, rubbing his shoulder and standing up before Regina can land another blow. “I have to head out to the pitch. I’ll see you guys at the match.”

They wish him luck, and then Emma slides down to take his vacant seat. “So, you ready for Monday?” she asks, stealing a blueberry Robin hadn’t eaten.

Regina’s stomach turns for a whole different reason as she freezes mid-chew, her French toast suddenly feeling like sand in her mouth. She forces herself to swallow and then licks her lips, nodding slowly. “I think so,” she answers, swirling a bit of syrup around on her plate with her fork. “I have my lesson plans for the next few weeks planned out, and the closet is pretty much organized. It’s just a matter of actually teaching now, I guess.”

_ And not screwing up so terribly that everyone realizes what a big fake I am. _

Emma nods. “The kids seem excited. They love having you for Potions, so I’m sure they’ll love having you for DADA too.”

Regina quirks her lips, unable to smile fully because she knows how wrong that statement is. They like her for Potions because nothing is wrong with her teaching that subject. She’s strict, but fair, and the students learn a lot, and it is completely acceptable for her to be the Potions Madam. Her students are smart. It’s only a matter of time before they realize having her for DADA is a mistake.

“When are you heading out?” Regina asks, looking for any chance to change the subject.

“Tomorrow,” Emma replies. “My not-so-secret going away party is tonight, so I’ll probably leave sometime in the morning.”

“So you figured out where you’re staying, then?” Regina probes, glancing pointedly down the table at Killian.

Emma bobs her head slowly. “I got my own flat in London,” she answers. “And… I told Killian that I didn’t actually want to break up with him, but that I'm not ready to move in with him, either.”

“And he took that well, I’m assuming?”

Emma shrugs. “He was a little upset, but he understood. He said we can take that step when I’m ready.”

Regina smirks. “Wow, it’s a shame you didn’t have a friend who told you he would say exactly that.”

Emma rolls her eyes. “Shut up, Mills. And don’t get too smug. Just because I’m leaving, doesn’t mean you’re excused from hearing all about my relationship woes. I’ll be sure to send a weekly owl with updates.”

Regina groans, shaking her head as Emma just laughs.

* * *

Any nerves Robin had about reffing quidditch evaporate the moment he tosses the quaffle into the air. Jitters are replaced with adrenaline and when he mounts his broom and takes to the sky, something inside him rights itself. He’s back  _ home.  _ Back where he belongs, on a broom, on the pitch, at Hogwarts. The thrill he got playing for the Harriers is nothing compared to this feeling, the feeling of looking out at the viewing towers decorated in reds, and yellows, and blues, and greens, and hearing the sound of cheers and heckles as balls and players alike whoosh past in blurs of color.

He nearly misses the first play thanks to his awe, and he only snaps out of his reverie when the Gryffindor sections erupt into cheers as Merida Dunbroch scores the first goal. Ten points for Gryffindor.

“And the first goal goes to Gryffindor!” Aladdin Ali shouts into the announcer’s mic from the front of the professors’ section. As a Slytherin, he has no stake in the match, so he should be more impartial than usual, but according to Regina, he always likes to add some colorful commentary.

Robin looks over at the professors’ section and smiles when he sees Regina clapping, face and eyes bright as she cheers on the red and gold.

Sean Herman, Keeper for the Hufflepuff team, collects the Quaffle and throws it to Ella Cinders. She catches it one-handed and speeds off toward the opposite end of the field, dodging a Bludger hit in her direction by Kristoff Rein. 

“And there goes Cinders, racing down the pitch, Quaffle in hand,” Aladdin says. “Cinders is on a mission this year. Probably hoping to make up for the abysmal performance of her House last year-”

“Mr. Ali!” The sound of Mary Margaret’s admonishment gets picked up on the microphone, and Robin can’t help but chuckle.

“Sorry, Professor Nolan- I meant, Hufflepuff is looking to improve their record from last season-”

Ella throws the Quaffle to Rapunzel Towers, another Hufflepuff Chaser, and she takes a shot on goal, but Philip Morris knocks the Quaffle out of the way before it can sail through the center ring. 

“And Morris heads the Quaffle in the direction of Jasmine Samara of Gryffindor- what a great addition to the team this year, helps Gryffindor out in both skill and looks, let me just say-”

“Ali!”

“Right, Professor, anyway, Samara throws to Alice Hatter, the young third year for Gryffindor who takes the Quaffle down the pitch-”

Robin glances up to see Henry hovering above the action, looking down occasionally to watch his teammates play, but mainly looking around, keeping an eye out for any signs of the Golden Snitch. The Hufflepuff Seeker, Wendy Darling, also sits on her broom a few yards away from Henry, head turning from side to side as she looks around for the Snitch.

Robin turns his attention back towards the game just as a Bludger flies past him, hit by Jefferson Booth in the direction of Rapunzel. The Bludger knocks into her broom and stops her from cutting off Alice, but it also sends her colliding into Merida who was coming up alongside. Although it was unintentional, the excessive amount of contact technically qualifies as a penalty.

Robin reaches for his whistle and blows. “Cobbing,” he announces, signaling with his hands so the players and spectators know what foul has been called. “Number 3, Hufflepuff, 10 meter penalty.”

“And Professor Locksley calls the first penalty of the game on Towers for cobbing. Looks like that’s going to be 10 meters for you, Hufflepuff.”

The Hufflepuff sections boo and groan while Gryffindor fans hoot and holler, cheering even louder when the penalty results in another Gryffindor goal, bringing their lead to twenty.

Hufflepuff scores their first goal a few minutes later, when Ella zips past Philip and just manages to get the Quaffle through the center hoop without getting called for haversacking. 

“And Hufflepuff finally scores,” Aladdin says into the microphone. “Thank Dumbledore for that because I’m sure no one is in the mood for a blowout today, although it is still early- joking, Professor Nolan, joking. Gryffindor is still in the lead and charging down the pitch, Quaffle in the hands of Dunbroch-”

Twenty minutes go by and Gryffindor leads by forty points, a comfortable enough lead that Merida starts calling more difficult plays. They pull off a Porskoff Ploy perfectly, leading to an additional ten points, but they stumble a bit with the Woollongong Shimmy and Jasmine gets penalized for stooging. Robin shakes his head as he brings the Quaffle to the appropriate penalty spot. The Woollongong is not something that can be improvised, it takes much coordination and practice. He’ll have to make sure they go over that on Monday.

Two goals for Hufflepuff and one for Gryffindor later, the Seekers finally start to make some moves. It begins when Henry flies over to the Hufflepuff end of the field, circling around the goal posts once, obviously trying to be nonchalant about it, but Wendy must catch sight of whatever Henry had seen as well, because she soon follows, taking a similar path until they’re both hovering in the same area, just behind the goal posts.

“It seems as if the Snitch may have been spotted,” Aladdin announces. “Colter and Darling are both circling in the same area, not quite sure where they’re looking-”

Robin alternates between watching the two Seekers and keeping an eye on the action in the game, nearly blowing his whistle for bumphing when Kristoff accidentally hits a Bludger toward a Gryffindor tower. Luckily, Jefferson redirects it before it crosses the edge of the pitch. 

“That’s a close call for Rein, he could have been ejected for that, and then Gryffindor would have been screwed for sure-”

“Mr. Ali, if I have to tell you one more time-”

“And Colter has spotted the Snitch!”

Aladdin’s shout draws everyone’s attention as Henry suddenly dives toward the bottom of the pitch, arm outstretched. Wendy quickly follows and soon the Seekers are caught in a race to catch the Snitch.

Robin holds his breath as Henry flies closer and closer to the edge of the pitch, getting his whistle ready in case he goes out of bounds, but just as he’s about to breach the line, Henry soars upward suddenly, leaving Wendy several meters behind him. He dodges a Bludger sent his way by a Hufflepuff Beater and then circles around the Gryffindor goal post, zooming upward until he’s above the tallest ring, holding his hand up triumphantly.

“Colter has caught the Snitch! Gryffindor wins!”

Well, technically not just yet, they haven’t. Robin flies over to Henry, weaving through his celebrating teammates. “I need to see the Snitch, Henry,” Robin shouts, trying to be heard over the roar of the crowd. 

Henry nods and opens his hand, revealing the small golden ball sitting on his palm.

Robin takes the Snitch and looks it over, checking for any signs of tampering or hexing and upon finding none, hands it back to Henry. “Good work, Henry,” he praises with a smile. “That’s a win your father would be proud of.” 

The smile that breaks across Henry’s face is brighter than the Snitch itself.

Robin blows his whistle long and loud, signaling the official end of the match.

The whole host of Gryffindor re-erupts into triumphant cheers and chants, and the team swarms Henry, patting him on the back and celebrating their victory. Robin looks toward the loudest Gryffindor section to see Roland Knight leading the cheers, a red megaphone held to his mouth as he guides the crowd in a chant of Henry’s name. In the professors’ section, Regina is receiving congratulatory pats and handshakes as well, the smile on her face bright and wide, even when Emma practically tackles her from behind in a bear hug. 

Her elation is contagious and Robin can’t help but smile too, the adrenaline of the match giving way to a feeling he hasn’t experienced in a long time- unadulterated joy. He guesses that’s what coming back home feels like.

* * *

 

Robin opens the door to the quidditch shed with his foot, his arms full with the trunk of balls from today’s match. He uses his hip to hold the door open and then steps inside, setting the trunk down on the work table against the one wall. He props the door with a block of wood, both for light and air circulation. It can get quite stuffy in the shed after awhile.

The crowd has mostly left the pitch, filtering back to the castle with equal parts celebration and defeat. Jefferson Booth had announced a party in the Gryffindor Common Room, and Robin can only imagine how quick Regina was to shut that idea down. Of course, she seemed pretty thrilled at the end of the match, so maybe her good spirits would lead to a little leeway on the rules tonight.

Robin unlatches the trunk and flips the top open, pulling out the Quaffle and tossing it in the basket reserved for PE. He could technically reuse it for future matches, but it had gotten pretty beat up today and only the freshest equipment should be used for real matches. He casts a calming spell on the Bludgers and unlocks them from their chains, inspecting their surfaces for any dings or dents. One is still in decent condition, but the other is just too worn to be used again, so he keeps the good one in the trunk and tosses the other into the PE bin.

He goes to pull out the Snitch from its compartment, but a knock on the door interrupts him.

Robin turns to see Regina standing in the doorway, bright smile still on her face. “Hey,” she greets, stepping inside.

“Hey, congratulations!” Robin praises, flipping the top of the trunk closed. “Not a bad start to the season, huh?”

“Not a bad start at all,” Regina agrees, leaning her hip against the work table. “Ruby’s already placed her bet for the Cup final.”

“Let me guess… Gryffindor over Slytherin by one hundred seventy points.”

“Close. Gryffindor over Ravenclaw by one hundred eighty,” Regina says with a chuckle, shaking her head. “As much as I would like for that to happen, the final is a long way away. We’ve still got the whole school year in front of us.”

“Well, I certainly was impressed with what I saw today. Merida is a wonderful captain,” Robin replies, untying his athletic robe and shrugging it off. He tosses it onto the work table and pulls up the sleeves of his sweater. 

Regina looks away and clears her throat, crossing her arms. “Yeah, she’s great. The team made a good decision in electing her.” She tucks a piece of hair behind her ear. “Uh, Henry told me what you said to him. He was really thrilled.”

“He should be,” Robin says. “That little spin move he did around the goalpost to cut the Snitch off? That’s definitely something Daniel would have done. Although Dan might’ve knocked into the Keeper a few times.”

Regina laughs, a lovely sound that brightens the whole shed. “Yes, he most certainly would not have been so graceful about it,” she agrees, eyes dropping to the floor. Her face shifts then, her smile dipping into a bit of a frown, something wistful and melancholic coloring her features. “I miss him,” she murmurs, knuckles white as she grips her elbows.

Robin exhales, allowing the bittersweetness of the day to take over. “Yeah. Me too,” he admits softly. During the match, it had been easy to pretend almost that Henry  _ was  _ Daniel, that the pair of them were back on their brooms, playing for their school, winning for their House, just like they had so many years ago. But reality is nothing close to that pipe dream, because Daniel wasn’t playing in the match, and he wasn’t cheering in the stands, because he’s dead. And the reminder of that is suddenly suffocating.

Regina sniffles after a moment and Robin glances up to see her wiping away a stray tear that had escaped down her cheek. “Hey, none of that now,” he says quietly, stepping forward and wrapping his arms around her in a hug. He squeezes her tightly, resting his chin on top of her head. “Henry played so well. You should be happy about that.”

“I  _ am  _ happy,” she warbles against his sweater. “But I just wish… just… if only-”

“If only Daniel were here to see it,” Robin provides, running a soothing palm up and down her back.

Regina nods, her cheek rubbing against his chest. “Yeah,” she whispers.

It’s silent after that, apart from Regina’s occasional sniff. She’s holding onto his sweater tightly, he can feel the fabric bunched in her fists, almost as if she’s worried he’ll disappear. After all, why shouldn’t she worry? He disappeared for eleven whole years. There’s probably a large part of her that thinks he could be gone again tomorrow.

And Robin hates himself for it.

He can only imagine how many times in the past decade she’s had to cry like this, but without the comfort of a friendly hug. How many times she’s had to bear her pain alone because there was no one around to share it with. How many times she’s wished for someone to understand exactly what she’s going through. He doesn’t think he wants to know how many. Dumbledore knows how many times  _ he  _ has had to find someplace quiet so he could cry and rage alone.

“I’m sorry,” he whispers suddenly, automatically.

Regina furrows her brow. “For what?” she asks, voice a bit raspy.

“For leaving,” Robin says. “For not being here when you needed me.”

Regina pulls back so she can see him, confusion evident on her face. “You’ve already apologized for that,” she reminds him.

Robin nods, looking down at the floor. “I know. But I feel like one apology can’t make up for it.”

Regina bobs her head, moving her hands from his back to rest on his shoulders.”You’re right. It can’t,” she agrees. “But you know what can?” She ducks her head to catch his gaze, offering a small smile when he brings his eyes to meet hers. “This, right here,” she says, squeezing his shoulders. “ _ This  _ makes up for it. And earlier, what you said to Henry.  _ That  _ makes up for it. And staying up until one in the morning reading stupid books with me.  _ That  _ makes up for it. I’ve forgiven you for not being here, Robin.” She runs her hands down his arms to rest at his elbows. “You need to forgive yourself now.”

Robin breaths out through his nose shakily, cracking a half-smile. “You’re a much stronger person than I am, Regina Mills,” he murmurs.

Regina hums, nodding her head. “Should we arm wrestle to prove it?” she asks, much too seriously.

Robin chuckles and that was evidently Regina’s goal, because she laughs too and pulls him back in for another hug, standing on her tip toes, arms tight around his neck. “You were great today, by the way,” she says, giving him one last squeeze and then stepping back, out of his personal space. “Just like I said you would be.”

“You were right,” Robin admits, smirking as he shoves his hands in his pockets. “Like always.”

Regina raises her eyebrows, triumphant smile spreading across her face. “I’m sorry, can I get that in writing?”

“Don’t push it, Mills.”

“Oh, Regina, there you are-” Mary Margaret cuts herself off when she appears in the doorway, catching sight of the pair of them. “I’m sorry, am I interrupting something?”

Robin shakes his head. “Nope. I was just congratulating Regina on Gryffindor’s win. My apologies to David, by the way.”

Mary Margaret waves her hand, dismissively. “Oh, he’ll get over it. He’s used to losing quidditch by now.” She turns to Regina. “Can you come help me set up for Emma’s party? I sent Ruby into town to pick up the cake from Honeydukes, but she’s not back yet and I could really use another set of hands.”

“Of course,” Regina agrees. “You’re coming tonight, right, Robin?”

“Well, I wasn’t planning on it, but now that I know there’ll be cake from Honeydukes, I’ll most definitely be there,” he jokes, garnering an eyeroll from both women.

“The entrance fee is one bottle of Blishen’s Firewhiskey,” Regina throws back, eyes alight with teasing.

“Does it matter if it’s half-drunk already?”

“Only if you bring some Dragon Barrel Brandy to make up for it.”

“Half a bottle of firewhiskey and a flagon of pumpkin juice, it is.”

Regina laughs and rolls her eyes, stepping toward the door. “I’ll see you later, Robin,” she says, leaving with Mary Margaret.

Robin holds up a hand, waving once as they disappear from the doorway. The shed seems empty all of a sudden, less bright and cheery. If he’s not careful, the stifling guilt he had experienced earlier might settle around him again, and even though Regina told him he shouldn’t feel that way, saying he needs to forgive himself is a lot easier than actually doing it. He drops his hand back down to his side and blows out a long breath, trying to let the heavy emotions of the day flow out into the air. He almost succeeds.


	11. Chapter 11

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the wait on this one! It kept getting bigger and bigger and my writing time kept getting smaller and smaller. Enjoy!

_“Stir it clockwise… yes, just like that.”_

_Professor Gold watches over Regina’s shoulder as she swirls the ladle through her potion, bubbling away in her pewter cauldron. It smells disgusting, like old cheese and mildew, and the color isn’t much better, like mud mixed with vomit. It’s Strengthening Solution, a difficult potion to brew, but Professor Gold said he thinks Regina can handle it with his guidance, even though she’s only a third year._

_“Now add the salamander blood.”_

_Regina reaches for the vial of dark red liquid, uncorking it and emptying the contents into the cauldron. “Should I keep stirring it?”_

_“Yes, but slowly. Try not to splash it too much.”_

_Regina obeys, twirling her ladle around the brew as the mixture gradually transforms from its disgusting state to a translucent blue liquid that smells of fresh water. “It changed!” she gasps, standing on her tiptoes to see into the cauldron fully._

_“Yes, salamander blood has strong transformative properties,” Gold explains. “Stir for thirty more seconds and then remove it from the heat. It has to sit for twenty four hours, and then we can perform the second stage. You can crush the griffin claws for it awhile.”_

_Regina lifts the handle of her cauldron and lifts it from the flame, setting it down on a cooling rack at the end of her work station. “Actually, professor, I was hoping I could leave a bit early today? There’s a quidditch scrimmage and my friends-”_

_“Friends?” Gold interrupts sharply, eyebrow arching. “I wasn’t aware friends were more important than your studies.”_

_“I didn’t mean-”_

_“Miss Mills, are you forgetting what’s important here?” Gold asks, limping over to his desk. “Your mother would be sorely disappointed to know you’ve been slacking in your studies for something as frivolous as_ quidditch.”

_“Please, sir, I only meant-”_

_“No, I know what you meant,” Gold snaps. “You wanted to leave early and neglect your classes. That is unexpectable in my House. Now fetch the griffin claws from the ingredient cabinet and get to crushing them. A much better use of your time than_ quidditch.”

_Regina nods and mumbles, “Yes, sir.” She heads over to the ingredient cabinets and steals a glance out the window. She can just see the tops of the quidditch rings in the distance. Sighing, she starts looking around for the griffin claws and hopes Daniel, Will, and Robin will understand why she had to miss out. Again._

* * *

 

The Nolans’ quarters are _warm._ Mary Margaret says they try to keep the heat in so the baby doesn’t catch a chill, but there’s a difference between warding off the cold and slow roasting any living being inside. Only twenty minutes into party setup, and Regina wishes she could shuck her robes in favor of her sleeveless, armpit-airing-out dress. But of course she can’t, because of a certain mark on her arm, and she would give anything to be able to cast a cloaking spell on her skin. Blasted dark magic. Fingers crossed it just doesn’t get any hotter.

Of course, she can’t blame the heat entirely on the roaring fire and her inability to wear anything but long sleeves. Her glass of nettle wine has definitely done a bang-up job of warming her insides. It’s not usually her drink of choice, but it’s stronger than merlot and alcohol is going to be essential if she wants to make it through this party.

She’s happy for Emma. She really, truly is. And Emma deserves the best damn going away party Hogwarts has ever seen. But the sendoff is double-sided. As Emma leaves, Regina takes her place, and if that isn’t the most terrifying thing in the world, Regina doesn’t know what is. She’s known, of course, for two weeks that this was happening, and she voluntarily (stupidly) agreed to it. But that was back then. Fourteen days ago. This is now, present, _here._ She’s becoming the Defense Against the Dark Arts professor.

A Defense Against the Dark Arts professor who can’t take her robes off because of the mark branded on her forearm.

The more she thinks about it, the more her stomach churns, her lungs clenching at the knowledge that her safe little world of Potions is ending, invaded by expectations and responsibilities for which she’s not entirely sure she’s ready. She can teach just fine. She’s been teaching for over a decade. She knows how to teach. It’s the _truth_ of what she’s teaching, the _integrity_ of her lessons that scares her. All it takes is one wrong move, one mistake, and everyone will see what a fake she is.

Regina’s hands shake a bit as she sets out plates and bowls on the food table. She clenches them into fists, frustrated by her own cowardice, her own fear over a decision she herself made.Gryffindors aren’t afraid of little things like job changes. Gryffindors are brave. Be brave, damnit. But how can she be brave, if she’s spent her entire life being a coward? A coward pretending to be brave. A Slytherin pretending to be a Gryffindor. Another mark in the hypocrisy column.

A fake Gryffindor. A fake DADA professor. Is there anything about her life that isn’t a lie?

Dumbledore’s beard, it is _hot_ in here. Regina reaches for the bottle of nettle wine and pours herself a refill, bringing the chilled glass to her forehead before taking a generous gulp. She needs to go into this party nice and tipsy if she’s going to make it out alive.

There’s a knock on the door just then, prompting Mary Margaret to announce that she’ll get it and that could someone _please_ fix the centerpiece on the gift table because it looks _atrocious._ Regina rolls her eyes heavenward as she abandons the fruit tray she had been arranging and heads over to the small gift table in the corner. There’s a vase in the center with Peruvian Lilies (a throwback to Emma’s rather eventful trip to South America last winter) and they don’t even look _that_ bad. A few blooms are drooping, sure, but a quick charm will fix that.

Regina pulls out her wand and whispers, “ _Herbivicus,”_ under her breath, slowly curling her hand upward as a tendril of green magic spills from her wand’s end and wraps around the lilies, rejuvenating the petals and straightening the stems until they look bright and lively and, hopefully, Mary Margaret-approved.

“Oh, Regina, thank you, they look so much better,” Mary Margaret says as she scurries by, apparently reading her mind. “I’ll finish up the food, can you stay close to the door to let people in? They’ve already started to arrive.”

Regina looks over her shoulder to see John and Anton Little as well as Belle standing about the living room, robes off and drinks already in hand. “Yeah, no problem,” Regina agrees. She tucks her wand away and heads back over to the food table, reaching for her nettle wine. She knocks back another sip and then fills her glass again, exhaling at the way her head finally starts to feel light and fuzzy, the muscles in her shoulders loosening. She picks up her glass and forces a smile for the Littles and Belle on her way to the door, a bead of sweat rolling down her back. It’s going to be a long fucking night.

* * *

 

Robin knocks on the Nolans’ door at half past, a bit late for the eight o’clock call time, but not too late to be considered rude. He was not entirely sure of the dress code, since all Mary Margaret had said was to ‘look nice,’ so he took a shot in the dark and wore a light blue dress shirt with dark grey slacks and a set of pewter robes. Nice, but not _too_ nice. He thinks.

He has a bottle of firewhiskey in hand, per Regina’s request, despite knowing full well that she was joking. If she doesn’t want it, well, he’s sure Killian will be up for any and all libations tonight, so it shouldn’t be too difficult to pawn off.

A good twenty seconds pass before the door opens, and when it does, the quiet hallway is suddenly filled with the sounds of talking, music, and laughing, a cacophony of noises that had undoubtedly been muffled by a silencing spell on the room. Probably to ward off any snooping students. After all, they don’t need the antics of drunken professors to be spread around the school.

Regina stands on the other side of the doorway, her arm flung open wide as she holds onto the doorknob with one hand and a half-full glass of something light blue with the other. “Robin, there you are!” she greets with a smile. She’s dressed in a fitted red dress that stops a few inches above her knee, her black robes unbuttoned and open. Her hair is wavy, loose and curling over her shoulders. There’s a pink tint to her cheeks, from either whatever alcohol is in her glass or the heat of the large fireplace in the back of the room.

She looks rather stunning.

“I was wondering where you were,” Regina says, stepping aside to let Robin enter.

“I was scrounging up my entry fee,” Robin replies, holding up the bottle of firewhiskey.

Regina looks at it for a moment and then laughs, an unusually giggly sound. “I was _joking_ about that, stupid,” she teases, pushing his shoulder playfully and then pulling the bottle from his hand. “But since you brought it, I’ll add it to the table. Follow me.”

She turns and starts weaving through the crowd, and Robin takes notice of the celebratory surroundings for the first time. The Nolans’ chambers are large, bigger than the average in order to accommodate for the two of them and their young son. The living room, where most everyone is congregated, is large and ornate, typical of the Hogwarts style. Bookcases line the entire front wall, opposite the large fireplace and mantle situated between two doors that Robin can only assume lead to their bedrooms and bathrooms. It seems as if the entire staff of Hogwarts is present, from Anton Little to Merlin himself. The only person Robin can tell is absent is Emma, but she’s probably due to come later anyway.

There are tables set up on either side of the living room, one covered with trays and bowls of food, and the other with all assortments of bottles, jugs, and glasses. It’s to the second table that Regina leads him. “Here, we’ll set it right next to the other bottle of firewhiskey,” she says, putting his bottle down and then knocking back a good portion of whatever’s in her glass. “Can I pour you a drink?”

“Sure, what are you having?” Robin asks, glancing around for a place to hang his robes. It’s a wonder Regina hasn’t taken hers off- it’s nearly sweltering in here.

“Nettle wine,” she answers, holding her glass up and swirling it around. “But I’m going to guess and say that you’d rather have some Knotgrass Mead.”

“Well, if that’s what you’re offering,” Robin says with a smile, reaching for the bottle of Knotgrass on the table himself. He pours some of the amber liquid into a tankard and then holds it up, clinking it against Regina’s glass. “Cheers, to Emma,” he states before taking a long pull of his drink, relishing in the slight burn as it goes down.

“Here, here,” Regina agrees, tipping her glass back and draining the rest of her wine. She blinks when she swallows, her eyes slow to focus as a smile comes to her lips. She giggles, and reaches for the light blue bottle on the table to refill.

Robin licks his lips and takes another sip, watching carefully as she sloshes just a bit in pouring a fresh glass for herself. “Hey, Regina?” he prompts.

“Yes?” she says, struggling a bit to recork the bottle.

“How many glasses of wine have you had tonight?”

She tilts her head as she straightens, glass in hand. “Uh… this is my thir- fourth,” she answers, easy smile still on her face.

Well, that would explain it.

“I see,” Robin says, sipping more of his mead. Understandable, that she’d want to get a bit drunk tonight. It’s going to be a stressful few days for her. Not only does she have to deal with completely changing jobs- something he personally knows can be anxiety-inducing- but she has that pesky little self-confidence problem that has stubbornly rooted itself in her mind. And regardless of the many pep talks and reassurances Robin has given her the past few weeks, he knows she hasn’t been able to shake this aura of self-doubt. He can only imagine it’s gotten worse with Emma’s departure suddenly imminent.

“Have you eaten anything yet?” Robin asks. Getting drunk is one thing, getting too drunk too fast is entirely another.

Regina shakes her head, sending a few pieces of her hair down across her forehead. “No, I’m not hungry,” she says, bringing her wine glass to her lips again.

Robin nods and reaches for her arm. “Right, well, I’m starving. Let’s check out the food table, hmm?” he suggests, gripping her elbow lightly and leading her toward the wide spread of delicious aromas against the far wall.

Regina pouts, disgruntled, as her wine sloshes a bit at his insistence, but her scowl snaps into a smile as they head toward the table. “Ruby!” she gushes giddily, pulling herself free from Robin’s grasp and hurrying over for a hug.

Robin sighs, shaking his head. He’s suddenly bombarded with memories of a younger, drunk Regina, on the nights when she would let herself partake in the more illegal activities of their friend group. She was always a happy drunk, alcohol acting as a balm for whatever troubles were plaguing her. And there were so many troubles, over so many years. It seems that nothing has really changed.

“Whoa, Mills, slow down,” Ruby laughs as she steadies Regina on her feet. “You’re about half a bottle ahead of the rest of us.”

“Yeah, well, why quit when you’re ahead?” Regina asks, bringing her drink to her lips again.

“I don’t think that’s how the saying goes,” Robin says, pulling the glass from Regina’s hand.

“Hey!” she whines. She reaches for her beloved wine, but Robin holds it up and away, too high for her to reach.

“Eat something, and then you can have your drink back,” he orders, brotherly eyebrow raised.

“But-”

“I’m not letting you get blackout drunk before Emma even gets here,” Robin interrupts. “Imagine how mad Mary Margaret would get if you passed out on her living room floor.”

Regina crosses her arms and pouts, lip jutting out rather adorably. “But I _like_ making Mary Margaret mad. It’s funny.”

Robin sighs and glances toward Ruby for assistance, but all he gets is a chuckle and shrug in return. He blows out a breath and looks at the food table, suddenly crafting an idea. “You know what would also make Mary Margaret mad?” he asks, leaning forward conspiratorially.

“What?” Regina says, lips quirking up into a bit of a smile.

“If you eat the bread pudding Granny Lucas brought instead of the blueberry crisp Mary Margaret made,” Robin murmurs, waggling his eyebrows in a way that makes Regina fight hard against a grin.

“That _would_ make her mad, wouldn’t it?” Regina agrees, scrunching her nose in that way that used to always make Robin’s heart flip over. He only has to nod once before Regina is heading over to the stacks of plates and bowls to begin her plan of getting under Mary Margaret’s skin.Thank Dumbledore her stubbornness significantly decreases when she’s under the influence.

“You’re going to have your hands full tonight,” Ruby teases, taking Robin’s glass of mead out of his grasp and stealing a sip. “She’s been drinking since before anyone got here.”

Robin shakes his head. “She’s stressed,” he sighs. “She deserves to have a fun night, but I don’t want her puking into the Nolan’s ficus plant.”

“Well, then it’s a good thing she has you looking out for her,” Ruby says, handing his drink back.

“Yeah, I’m not quite sure when I was assigned to that job,” Robin chuckles.

Ruby pats him on the shoulder. “I think that’s always been your job.”

Robin blinks as Ruby walks away. If looking out for Regina has been his job, he’s certainly had a poor showing of it, hasn’t he? Years of pain and heartache on both their parts has been a pretty good testament to his failure in that regard. But no- no. Regina’s forgiven him, he’s making up for the past now, by being here now, looking out for her now. Still, he didn’t really need a reminder of his shortcomings tonight, did he?

Robin knocks back a generous portion of his mead just as Regina comes sauntering back over with a plate of bread pudding. He blows out a breath, trying to brush off Ruby’s comment, and looks down at the dessert in Regina’s hand. “Good choice?” he asks.

Regina nods around a mouthful, dragging her fork from between her lips in a… perfectly normal way, but also _not_ in a normal way because Robin suddenly becomes doubly aware of the heat of the room as she trails her tongue along the underside of the fork, licking up a bit of fruit left behind. Her lips are painted red, and Robin is suddenly even more aware of _that_ fact, especially when she bites the bottom one in a smile, looking up at him.

“ _Very_ good choice,” she concurs, and oh yeah, he’d asked her a question. “Do you want any?”

“Hm? Oh, no, I’m good,” Robin answers, forcing himself to look away from her mouth as she takes another bite. He clears his throat and glances around the room. “When’s Emma supposed to get here?”

“Ten, I think,” Regina says after a swallow (that Robin definitely did not watch). “I don’t know why though, because it’s not like it’s a surprise anymore.”

“Emma knows about the party?”

Regina nods. “She told me at breakfast that she knew about it. Probably because Killian told her. He’s a dumbass.”

Robin quirks his lips in a smile. “Why do you think Killian’s a dumbass?”

Regina gives him a look that makes him think _he’s_ the dumbass. “Because he _is,”_ she insists, stabbing into another bit of bread pudding. “He asked Emma to move in with him a _month_ after they got back together. I don’t care how much he loves her, if he knew anything about her, he’d know she’d get freaked out by that, and she _did._ The only reason they’re even still together now is because I talked Emma out of breaking up with him because she was scared. But it was his fault she was scared in the first place because he asked her to move in with him. So he’s a dumbass.”

Robin’s eyebrows go higher and higher with every word that tumbles out of her mouth. “Wait… Killian and Emma are together?” he asks. He’d known they had a thing for each other, and even dated on and off, everyone knew that, but he had no idea they were actually a couple.

Regina freezes, eyes going wide. “I wasn’t supposed to tell you that,” she says, panicked, clutching his arm in a vice grip, nails digging into his robes. “Robin, you can’t tell anyone, _please_. Emma will kill me.”

Robin grins. “Oh, no, I can’t let this go. Killian is going to get a proper ribbing from me when he gets here. How long has this been going on? I can’t believe he didn’t tell me. What a git-”

“ _Robin,”_ Regina pleads again, her brown eyes big and begging, suddenly lucid and sober. “ _Please_ don’t say anything. _Please.”_

He wants to tease her a bit more, leave her dangling, but he takes a good look at her eyes and frowns at the real fear swirling within them. Certainly she can’t actually be afraid Emma would do anything malicious for spilling her secret? That’s not how Emma works, and that’s not how Regina works either, being scared of someone else. He can think of only three people she’s ever truly been afraid of- You Know Who, her mother and… herself.

It makes sense then, that she would be so worried over something as trivial as letting a secret slip. She’s scared of herself, of messing up, of making a mistake, because the last time she made a mistake, she ended up with that blasted mark on her arm. She’s spent years building up trust, proving that she can be more than her mess ups, and if she can’t be trusted with something small like her friend’s confidence, how can she be trusted with something big like DADA?

Robin sighs as he continues to look at her, the complicated, tangled web of insecurities and self-doubt that is Regina Mills. It’s his job to look out for her, and he’s going to do just that. “Alright,” he concedes, running a hand up and down her arm. “I won’t say anything.”

Regina visibly relaxes, shoulders loosening as she exhales. “Thank you,” she murmurs, eyes dropping to the floor in what Robin can only assume to be embarrassment. And now he’s the jerk for making her feel anything other than drunk and relaxed tonight.

“Do you want your wine back?” Robin asks, holding up her half-filled glass. “I have a feeling I ruined your buzz a little too much.”

Regina smiles, taking her drink. “You did, but that’s probably a good thing. I needed to slow down.”

“Regina!” Mary Margaret exclaims as she hurries over, a bit out of breath. “Can you help Ruby with the cake? She’s trying to get it plated, but apparently it keeps falling over and you know how she is with food spells, and Emma loves Honeydukes cakes so I don’t want it ruined-”

“Alright, alright,” Regina interrupts with a huff, handing her drink right back to Robin. “Don’t get your robes in a twist. I’ll take care of it.” She strides away from them, pulling her wand out from her robes and pushing open the door to the kitchen with an air of annoyed confidence, as if she hadn’t just been drowning in self-doubt a minute ago.

Robin chuckles and shakes his head as he brings his mead to his lips. Fascinating woman.

“I’m sorry I didn’t see you when you came in, Robin,” Mary Margaret says. “I’m glad you could make it.”

“So am I,” Robin replies. “It’s quite the gathering you’ve put together.”

Mary Margaret nods as she looks around at their halfway-to-drunk colleagues. “Yeah, Hogwarts professors definitely know how to have fun,” she laughs, a light, tinkling sound. “Regina included, apparently.”

Robin glances down at the glass of nettle wine in his hand. “That’s for sure,” he agrees. “Although, I’d imagine her goal is to forget all her stress instead of just having fun.”

Mary Margaret tilts her head in acknowledgement. “She _has_ been stressed lately, yes,” she muses. “But I’ve noticed that she’s been… I don’t know, happier? These past few weeks. Despite everything going on, she’s smiling a lot more.” She gives Robin a look then, something that makes him feel as if she knows something he doesn’t, and then she shrugs. “It’s just nice. Seeing her be happy for a change.”

Robin doesn’t know what to say to that, but luckily he doesn’t have to think of a response because Mary Margaret pats him on the shoulder and then walks away, bidding him to have a good time tonight. Regina comes back out of the kitchen just then, looking around, presumably for him, or more likely for her drink, so Robin knocks back the rest of his mead and winds his way through the crowd over to her, a refill and that goddamn red lipstick the only things on his mind.

* * *

 

Regina is full on sweating now, and she envies her colleagues who are free to take off their robes. Robin took his off about twenty minutes in, and rolled up his sleeves as well, which should not be so distracting, but Regina has caught herself staring at him more times than she would like to admit. Her buzz is back, thankfully, and so she’ll just blame it on the wine tomorrow, but her mind keeps drifting to some rather inappropriate places.

Like what if it got so warm that Robin took his _shirt_ off _,_ his chest and arms bare and free for her appreciation.

It’s an enticing thought, but a weird one because it’s _Robin,_ but… well, she is only a woman, isn’t she? A drunk woman who can’t tell anymore if she’s sweating because of the fire, her robes, the wine, or something else entirely.

Robin catches her eye from across the room, and oh shit, she’s been staring again, hasn’t she? He takes a second from his conversation with Belle to send a smile her way, his grin a little too dopey to be considered completely sober. And well good, at least she’s not the only one who’s enjoying the effects of alcohol tonight.

“Professor Mills.”

The cool voice of Alastor Gold has Regina turning, a frown on her face.

“Gold,” she returns. “What do you want?”

“Who said I want anything?” Gold asks, hands perched atop his cane. “Perhaps I just came over to congratulate you.”

Regina scoffs and narrows her eyes. “Yeah, right. Keep talking like that and I’ll start to think you’re under the Imperius Curse. Now what do you want?”

Gold tilts his head, mouth twitching in something like a smirk. “I just wanted to know how your investigation has been going. Poor Leroy has been without his beloved cat for nearly two weeks now.”

Regina scowls. “Yes, I’m well aware. However, that has nothing to do with me. We have to wait for John’s mandrakes to reach adulthood before the antidote can be brewed. And then whoever the new Potions professor is can handle it.”

“Washing your hands clean of the matter, then?”

“No,” Regina scowls. “Of course not. But the antidote is no longer my job. My job is to find out who is responsible for what happened. Not that either of those things have to do with _you._ ”

“Mm, and you’re off to a banner start, aren’t you?” Gold mocks with a grin.

Regina glares. “The workings of the investigation are confidential-”

“Oh, are they? My mistake,” Gold interjects. “I wasn’t aware ‘confidential’ meant the entire faculty knows.”

“Knows what?” Regina asks carefully, grip tightening around her wine glass.

Gold looks away nonchalantly. “Oh, just that you’ve sunk so low as to ask _David_ of all people for advice.”

Regina blinks, confused. She hasn’t spoken to David about the investigation yet. She and Robin have made plans to, but that was last night, and there hasn’t been time to sit down and pick his brain on the matter since then. She didn’t mention it to anyone, and she’s sure Robin wouldn’t have either. So then how would Gold know…

“You’ve been spying on us,” Regina states, a bit incredulous, but not surprised in the least. She’s a bit ashamed of herself for not having thought of it earlier. “How? The portraits? The ghosts? I bet you have Grump listening around every corner for you, don’t you?”

Gold raises one cool eyebrow. “Throwing accusations around, again, Regina? Really, you should make sure you have your facts straight before you make a fool of yourself.”

“You’re not denying it,” she counters, heat licking in her chest for a whole new reason as her fist clenches even tighter around her glass.

“I tend not to acknowledge slander,” he replies, taking a step toward her, invading her personal space. “And that’s exactly what this will seem to be if you mention it to anyone.” He leans forward, mouth by her ear, forcing her to repress a shudder. “I _have_ been watching you, my dear. Ensuring you make at least a little bit of progress, and I must say, I’m disappointed. It’s been what, two weeks? And you’ve yet to make a _dent_ in finding any answers.” He tsks, making Regina flinch. “Just think of what the _parents_ will say when they hear that nothing is being done to protect their children. If you have a brain in that pretty head of yours, you’d step away and let someone capable take over.”

Regina swallows, throat so thick she can hardly manage it. “Someone like you?” she grits out, knuckles white around her glass.

“You said it, not me,” Gold says, leaning back, giving her some room to breathe again. “I think you and I both know I’m the overall _better_ choice.”

“For the investigation, or DADA?” Regina snaps.

“Well, now that you mention it… both,” Gold replies. “I think we can agree that the students deserve to have a Defense Against the Dark Arts professor who _hasn’t_ been put on trial for misuse of magic and crimes against wizardkind.”

“I was acquitted,” Regina hisses, glaring.

“Ah, yes, but that didn’t bring back your father did it?”

Regina squeezes her glass so hard she thinks it might break. “How _dare_ you-”

“Dare I what?” Gold challenges. “Bring up a very important piece of your past that everyone seems to conveniently forget about?”

“Don’t talk about bringing up things from people’s pasts, Gold,” Regina warns. “That is a game I _know_ you don’t want me to play.”

“Threaten me all you wish, dearie,” Gold dismisses. “We both know that anything you can bring up about me will pale in comparison to what I can say about you. And then we’ll see who’s teaching in the classroom on the first floor.”

Regina rolls her eyes, a desperate attempt to appear unaffected that she knows Gold sees right through. “Is that so? Because I hate to break it to you, but this is Emma’s going away party, and come Monday, I’m going to be the one in her classroom.”

Gold looks her up and down, lazy interest in his eyes. “For now.” And with that, he turns and walks away, leaving Regina with a numb hand, a pounding heart, and a burning forearm.

* * *

 

Emma arrives five minutes after ten, with her best fake surprised face on as Killian does his part and leads her into the room. A chorus of “surprise!” and cheers greet her, followed by clapping and hollering as someone immediately hands her a glass of champagne.

Regina catches Emma’s eye from her spot beside Robin, forcing a smile in return for the wink Emma sends her way. She’s slowed down on the alcohol, so she’s not as drunk as she had hoped she’d be, but her head is still swimming, her nerves dulled but still rankled after her interaction with Gold. And now, the sight of Emma here, the sight that this is _real,_ this is _happening,_ Emma is _leaving_ tomorrow, makes Regina’s stomach lurch in a way that can only be partially attributed to the wine.

Merlin makes his way to the middle of the crowd then, standing beside Emma and raising his hand for quiet. “I would say I hope you enjoyed your surprise, Emma, but I have a suspicion you knew what was going on tonight.”

“What?” Emma fakes poorly, eyes darting from Killian to Regina. “Of course I didn’t!”

Merlin chuckles. “Well, regardless, surprise, welcome, and I would like to take a moment to say a few words. Emma-” He tilts his glass toward her and smiles. “We are all so very proud of you and thrilled that you have been given such a wonderful opportunity. And we are also thankful for your years of service to our school. I think we all can agree that you have had a positive impact on both the students and our faculty. We’ll miss being around your spirited attitude everyday, but we know you will be phenomenal in your new role as an Auror. And remember- Hogwarts will always be here to welcome you home.”

He raises his glass and smiles. “To Emma.”

“To Emma!” comes the rousing echo, glasses and tumblers thrust into the air.

Regina lifts her glass just slightly before drinking deep, leaving only a quarter of her wine left to slosh around the bottom. She blinks, her eyes crossing for a split second before she refocuses, shaking her head as Emma says something about being grateful and excited and sad. Robin is beside her- well, beside and behind just a little- and she’s thankful for the hand he runs down her back, a soothing pass along her spine that calms the rolling ball of nerves bouncing around her stomach.

A second later, that rolling ball explodes when Merlin turns his attention to her.

“Regina, if you wouldn’t mind,” he invites, gesturing her forward.

She would mind. She would mind very much, thanks. But Robin’s giving her a gentle push on her back and her feet stumble just a little as she joins Merlin in the middle of the circle.

“As you all know, Regina is taking Emma’s place as Defense Against the Dark Arts professor, and I think I can speak for all of us when I say that there is no one better to fill Emma’s shoes,” Merlin says, and Regina wants to throw up. There’s some murmurings of agreement among her colleagues and Gold is staring, staring, _staring_ at her, his gaze so intent and sure and smug that she’s positive there is a hole burning through her forehead.

“So tonight, I believe a toast to Regina is also in order, as she takes on this new role in our school,” Merlin goes on. “To Regina- we know you’ll do wonderfully.”

“To Regina!” is the new echo and she is dizzy with the emotions of it all. If only they knew, if only they _knew_ their cheers are in vain.

Emma smiles brightly at her over Merlin’s shoulder, so confident. If only she _knew…_

Robin grins at her too, proudly, because he’s _proud_ of her. And how can he be proud of her when she’s wearing her fucking robes in this sweltering room from hell because she can’t bare to show her arm and the mark that is branded upon it. Maybe she should take off her robes. Then they’d all see, they’d all be reminded, they’d all _know_ she isn’t the right choice for this-

“And now, I’d like to invite Alastor forward as well.”

Wait, what?

Regina’s head snaps around as Gold steps into the middle, not looking at her, but still staring, his gaze still burning into her mind.

What is he doing? What does he have to do with anything? Regina looks at Robin and he seems just as confused as she, brow furrowed and frown tipped down hard. For his part, Gold doesn’t even glance in her direction, his eyes trained forward, that same smug little smile on his face.

“With Regina transitioning to Defense Against the Dark Arts,” Merlin continues, as if there’s nothing wrong, but something is _very_ wrong. “Her former position of Potions is left vacant, and I’m happy to announce that Alastor has agreed to become Potions master once again.”

He keeps talking, saying something, nothing, anything, but Regina hears none of it. It’s like her head is submerged in a fishbowl, sound dulled, vision warped, black spots dancing across her eyes. Her heart starts to pound, breath picking up speed. There’s another cheer from the crowd. They’re congratulating this. Congratulating this _nightmare._ Congratulating _him._ Regina starts to sway on her feet, wobbling in her heels as her head gets fuzzy, air leaving her lungs, never to return. The fishbowl gets quieter and quieter, her vision going blurrier and blurrier as her stomach pitches violently, all that nettle wine fighting to get back to the surface.

Blonde hair that can only belong to Emma invades her eyesight then, followed by Emma’s concerned face. She asks something that sounds like, “Regina, are you alright?” but her voice gets lost on it’s way to Regina’s ears.

Her stomach lurches again, sharply, and she needs to get out of here. She needs to throw up, needs to breathe, needs to _run._

And so that’s what she does. Turns on her heel, pushes through her crowd of colleagues, and runs right out the Nolans’ door.

* * *

 

“Fucking hell,” Robin mutters to himself, slamming his drink down on a table and hurrying after Regina. He brushes past Gold harshly, bumping into his shoulder without apologizing because fuck him. _Fuck_ him and his stupid smirk and knowing look. Robin’s never used the Killing Curse before, but if he ever needed to practice, he knows exactly who would be his test dummy.

Robin pushes open the Nolans’ door and walks out into the dark hallway, seeing no sign of Regina. He takes a step to the left and then thinks better of it, turning to the right and heading toward the courtyard. When he’s a few paces back from the archway, the sounds of retching fill the air and his shoulders deflate, knowing he’s going in the right direction.

He turns into the courtyard and sighs. Regina’s in the middle, on her hands and knees as she becomes reacquainted with the contents of her stomach. Robin jogs over and kneels down beside her, pulling her hair back and out of her face. “It’s alright, it’s alright,” he soothes. “Just get it all out.”

She coughs, sputtering as she catches her breath, and then jerks forward a bit as she throws up again. It’s disturbingly blue, and Robin would be worried if he hadn’t known her drink of choice for the night. “There you go,” he murmurs. “You’re okay.”

Regina gasps for breath, spits, and then sits back on her feet, running her sleeve over her face. She sniffs and oh fuck, she’s crying. He’s not surprised, but it still makes his heart sink.

“Breathe, that’s it,” Robin says, letting her hair go and sliding his hand up and down her back.

Heat is practically radiating off her, he can feel it through the fabric of her robes, and why is she even still wearing those? The party was a bloody furnace. “Let’s get your robes off,” he says softly, reaching for the collar.

But Regina startles and grabs his wrist. “No!” she exclaims. “I can’t- my arm- people will see-”

Robin freezes, hand still raised. Her eyes are wild, wide, pupils huge. Her breath is quick and shallow, shoulders rising and falling with every inhale and exhale. And there’s fear, dread written all over her face. She’s not here, he realizes, her mind is a thousand miles away and it is tormenting her into a deeper state of anxiety and panic with every second that passes.

“Hey, hey, hey,” he says, bringing his hands up to her face. “Look at me, eyes on me.”

Regina blinks and tries to focus, her brown eyes darting everywhere until finally settling on his as she reaches up and holds onto his wrists, nails biting into his skin. “I need-” she gasps, shoulders shuddering.

“What do you need? Tell me what you need,” Robin urges, tilting her head back toward him when she tries to look away.

She shuts her eyes, squeezes hard, and then opens them, inhaling deeply and exhaling slowly. She repeats it a few times until her breathing slows, shoulders relaxing as her chest stops heaving. “Water,” she rasps. “I need… water, please.”

“Water,” Robin repeats to himself, dropping a hand from her cheek and pulling out his wand. A water spell is on the tip of his tongue, but then he remembers he doesn’t have a cup and he can’t very well spray her in the face. “ _Accio_ cup,” he mutters and a second later a metal cup comes sailing through the air from somewhere, anywhere, who cares, and Robin reaches up and grabs it. He casts a cleaning spell on it, since he doesn’t know where it bloody came from, and then murmurs, “ _Aguamenti.”_ Fresh, clear water spills from the end of his wand into the cup. Once it’s filled, he hands it to Regina.

She takes it and drinks gratefully, hands shaking as she grips the metal.

Robin lets his hands fall to his knees, catching his own breath. He hadn’t realized how hard his own heart was beating. He glances down at the stone ground in front of them and pulls his wand back out, whispering, “ _Tergeo”_ to clean the evidence of Regina’s reversal of fortune. There are some bits on the sleeves of her robes, but he doesn’t dare touch those again, not wanting to risk setting her off.

Regina drains the last of the water and takes another deep breath, setting the cup down on the ground. “Thank you,” she says, voice raspy and thin.

Robin nods and reaches for the cup, refilling it just in case she needs it.

It’s quiet then, the only noise coming from Regina’s deep breaths, and Robin doesn’t know what to do next. What she needs, what he can do, how he can even begin to tackle the mess that just exploded in front of her face. And it is such a mess- how could Merlin surprise her with something like that? He’d expect nothing less from Gold, that rat bastard, but Merlin knows how Regina is, cares for her, or at least, Robin thought he did. And then he just goes and drops something like that on her.

“Sorry,” Regina whispers after a minute, eyes cast down.

Robin shakes his head. “Don’t apologize. You’ve nothing to be sorry for. I just want to make sure you’re alright.”

She nods and runs the back of her hand over her nose. “Yeah, I’m alright,” she answers, voice high-pitched as a fresh wave of tears hit her eyes.

Bollocks. Robin scoots closer and wraps his arms around her, bringing her head to his shoulder. “Like hell you are,” he mutters, running his hand down her back again. And for Dumbledore’s sake, she’s still radiating heat. “Regina, please, take your robes off. You’re burning up. There’s no one here. No one but me. Nobody will see, I promise.”

She sniffs and pulls back from his embrace. “Okay,” she says feebly, wiping her cheeks. She pulls the ties holding her robes together and then shrugs them off, letting them pool on the ground behind her. She immediately crosses her arms, tucking her left hand deep into the crook of her right elbow.

Robin catches just a glimpse of her mark, and suddenly understands why she kept her robes on. The new Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher with a Dark Mark on her arm? All their colleagues know she has it, of course, but having a reminder there, stark on her skin, exposed for all to see, probably feels shameful. And knowing Regina, she was- _is-_ ashamed of herself.

Robin reaches out a hand, gently grasping her left wrist and pulling it free, turning her arm until the underside faces upward, illuminated by the high moon. He runs a finger over the mark there, tracing the faded black lines in a way that makes her shiver. “No one thinks less of you because of it,” he says softly, raising his eyes to meet hers.

“I do,” she whispers dully.

“You shouldn’t,” Robin replies.

She drops her eyes from his because they’ve had this talk before, and as much as he wishes it, he knows simple words and sentiments can’t untangle the knot of self-hatred and shame woven around her soul. It’s going to take a lot more than that, and he wishes he knew exactly what.

There’s some noises behind them then, back the way they came, and it seems like some of their colleagues have drunkenly stumbled out of the party.

Regina flinches and pulls her wrist away, wiping her cheeks and squaring her shoulders, trying to put a mask back up in case whoever is in the hallway decides to come into the courtyard.

But Robin doesn’t want that. She’s vulnerable right now and, though neither will admit it, rather frightened. Of herself, of Gold, of Monday morning. Of whoever might see her like this. Regina Mills is not a woman to be taken care of, but right now, he suspects that’s just what she needs.

So Robin stands and extends a hand, pulling her to her feet. He points his wands at her discarded robes and sends them back to her chambers, hopefully reappearing in her laundry. Robin glances over his shoulder at the voices behind them and then turns back to Regina, holding out his hand again. “Follow me?” he offers, leaving her free to make the choice, to reject him if she wishes.

To Robin’s delight, she doesn’t shoot him down, but rather places her palm on his, allowing him to weave their fingers together. He gives her a reassuring squeeze and then leads her out of the courtyard, to a place where they can both hopefully catch their breaths.

* * *

 

The Astronomy Tower is beautiful at night. It’s beautiful at all times of the day, really, but there’s something about the milky white glow of the moon cascading over the golden instruments, the sundials and telescopes, and the way the stars shine unimpeded by trees and clouds from so high up that gives the tower a feeling of magic all its own.

The journey up was a bit of a challenge, since Regina is still quite drunk despite her sobering experience earlier, but with a firm and patient arm around her back, Robin was able to see her to the top of the tower.

She’s leaning heavily against him now, as they walk through Killian’s classroom to the outer balcony. Her hair smells like lavender, and Robin keeps getting whiffs of the distracting scent whenever she turns her head. She’s still warm, all pressed against his side, but heat is no longer radiating off her, thanks to the cool night air and the slight breeze that’s billowing through.

He leads her through the entrance way of the balcony, and then helps her sit down, leaning back against the wall. Robin takes his place beside her, lifting his arm so she can rest against his side, her eyes drooping from both drink and exhaustion. He settles his arm around her shoulders and then tilts his head back, closing his eyes and taking a deep breath of the fresh night air.

Regina hasn’t said much since they left the courtyard, and she’s still quiet now, even though Robin knows there’s a tempest of thought whirling in her mind. He wants to help her, wants to reassure her, but he needs to know what she’s thinking first.

“Talk to me,” he urges, running a hand up and down her arm.

Regina sighs, a slow exhale that has her shoulders drooping. “Gold’s a bastard.”

Robin grunts in agreement. “Yeah, no argument there.”

Regina shakes her head, her hair brushing his shoulder. “Do you know what this means? Now that he’s Potions master again?”

In all honesty, no, he doesn’t, and Robin tells her so. Finding out Gold is taking over her old position was traumatic for her, obviously, but no, he can’t say he knows exactly why.

“He just inserted himself into our investigation,” Regina explains, head still shaking slowly.

“How…”

“The Potions master is in charge of making any potions the school may need,” Regina fills in. “Including the Mandrake Elixir.”

Robin closes his eyes. “Fuck.”

“Yeah,” Regina agrees glumly. “Fuck.”

“He was probably just pissed that we had him as our number one suspect,” Robin mutters. “Bastard wants to make sure we don’t look into him any further.”

“It’s more than just that,” Regina says, tilting her head back against the wall. “This is about me. And making sure I… _remember_ that he’s watching me.” She shivers a bit, and Robin can’t tell if it’s because of the breeze or because of some memory he’s not privy to. He fears it’s the latter.

“He doesn’t control you, Regina,” Robin reminds her. “He can try, but he doesn’t. No matter how much he tries to scare you into thinking he can. You’re in charge of yourself.”

She closes her eyes, a sad smile on her face. “I wish that was true.”

Robin doesn’t have an answer to that, his own thoughts consumed with wondering the contents of hers.

“I’ve known Gold since I was a little girl,” Regina says quietly after a few minutes of silence. “He and my mother were friends, and I’d see him at the Manor every now and then. He never paid much attention to Zelena, but me… he always watched me. He would ask me how I was preparing for Hogwarts, if I had gotten control of my magic yet, what House I wanted to be Sorted into. And then when I started Hogwarts and got Sorted into his House, he _kept_ watching me. When he noticed my skill at Potions, he used that to his advantage, to make me feel like I was excelling under his guidance.”

She shakes her head, fingers starting to tremble again as she fidgets with the hem of her dress. “He made sure I grew into a good little Slytherin with Slytherin friends and Slytherin goals. He was probably just spying for my mother, honestly, but it worked. I became exactly who my mother wanted me to be, who he _groomed_ me to be.”

Regina clenches her hands into fists. “I’ve been trying to get away from him my entire life. And when I took the Potions job here, Merlin promised me I would have minimal contact with Gold. He got moved to Divination, and I moved the Potions classroom away from the Slytherin dorms and Gold’s chambers. It didn’t stop him from antagonizing me every chance he got, but it gave me the distance I needed.”

Robin blows out a long breath. “And now he’s right back on top of you.”

Regina nods. “Potions is a prestigious position here. It gives him back some of the power and influence he lost when he got moved to Divination. And with him having some part in the investigation now, he can watch me. Again. Every move, every decision, every mistake. He’ll be able to see.” She exhales shakily. “And that terrifies me.”

Robin pulls her closer, squeezing her shoulder, his stomach twisted in knots for her. No wonder she threw up when she heard the news. “He’s a bastard, Regina. Probably one of the worst people I’ve ever met. And I’m sorry he’s had such an influence on your life. I’m sorry…” _I’m sorry I couldn’t protect you from him._ Robin swallows, forcing his own insecurities down to focus on hers. “I’m sorry he’s found his way back in. But you’re different from who you were back then. You’re stronger, and braver. He can only get to you if you let him.”

“I think my stomach’s revolt earlier proves that he already has,” Regina laughs humorlessly, bitterly.

“Nah, that was just the wine,” Robin dismisses, hoping for a smile and getting something close. “You know what I think?”

“What?”

“I think Gold is just jealous because he knows he could never be the Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher you will be,” Robin says, ignoring Regina’s snort of disbelief. “And he’s jealous because he’s not as smart as you, or as capable, and he’s _definitely_ not as pretty-”

Regina laughs, a real, genuine laugh, and the sound has Robin’s smile spreading wide, relief flooding his chest knowing he hasn’t completely lost her tonight.

“I’m serious, though,” Robin insists. “You will be wonderful on Monday, and all Gold will be able to do about it is throw a temper tantrum in his classroom.”

“Or in mine,” Regina says. “He likes to storm in when he’s not wanted.”

“Then cast _Colloportus_ and lock the bastard out.”

Regina smiles and ducks her head, shaking it slightly. “You make it sound so simple.”

“It _is_ simple,” Robin swears. “Lock Gold out of your mind, and focus on how spectacular you will be on Monday. Because you will be.”

“Oh, will I?”

Robin nods, and pulls her closer to him, settling back against the wall as she rests her head on his shoulder. “Yeah, you will be,” he murmurs. “I promise.”

* * *

 

Regina’s going to piss herself. First bell hasn’t rung yet, but it can only be moments until-

A sharp ringing sound makes her jump, and she has to take a deep breath to collect herself.

She has Gryffindor and Slytherin sixth years first, and she should feel better knowing she has her own House to start her new job, but it just makes her more nervous because she can’t let down her own House of all things. Her own students who look up to her, who seek her out for advice, who depend on her-

“Good morning, Professor Mills,” Jasmine Samara greets as she enters the classroom, books in hand, smile on her face.

“Miss Samara,” Regina returns politely, swallowing down her nerves. “Did you have a nice weekend?”

“She had a great weekend,” Aladdin Ali answers for her as he, too, strides into the classroom. He throws Jasmine a wink as he sits down, throwing his feet up on his desk.

Jasmine rolls her eyes and takes her own seat. “I had a fine weekend, thank you, professor.”

“Mr. Ali, we may be in a different class, but that doesn’t change the rules,” Regina says, eyebrow raised. “Feet down.”

Aladdin obeys with an overdramatic sigh as more students file into the classroom. It’s a smaller group, since it is a NEWT-level class, and she’s grateful for that. Starting off with a group like first or second years would be hellish.

The bell rings again, and the last couple of students take their seats, everyone poised and ready, looking up at her expectantly. To start. To begin. Her palms start to sweat, heart pounding in her ears. _Teach, Mills, for Dumbledore’s sake, you know how to teach._

She swallows, and glances down at her lesson plans on her desk, even though she has them memorized for the day. Her fingers are shaking, fuck-

_You will be wonderful._

Robin’s voice echos through her mind suddenly, and a rush of both calm and confidence flood through her veins. She can do this. She _can_ do this. She can _do_ this.

Regina clears her throat. _Here we go._

“Good morning…”


	12. Chapter 12

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks so much for being patient with me, guys! I am graduating college in about.... 30 days so needless to say I have been busy!

“Now, the Full Body-Bind Curse is  _ not  _ the same as a Freezing Spell,” Regina says as she walks behind her fifth year Hufflepuffs and Ravenclaws, all lined up in a row. About ten feet away, across from each student, stands a suit of armor (which she may have borrowed from the second floor corridor, but no one’s reported them missing yet, so…) “A Freezing Spell immobilizes a person in whatever position they are in when the spell is cast. The Body-Bind Curse snaps a person’s arms to their torso and their legs together while also immobilizing them.”

Regina raises her wand and a ripple of magic spreads across each suit of armor. A second later, the room is filled with squeaks and chings as the suits suddenly spring to life, limbs moving this way and that as they dance mechanically in place. “The incantation for the Body-Bind Curse is  _ Petrificus Totalus,” _ Regina explains over the noise of the armor. “Repeat after me:  _ Petrificus Totalus.” _

_ “Petrificus Totalus,”  _ the class echoes, some louder than others.

“Good. Now who remembers the wand motion from last night’s reading?” A hand shoots into the air at the very end of the line. “Yes, Miss Shelley?”

“It’s a forty-five degree angle down to the left and then a straight line to the right, ma’am,” Ariel answers.

“Very good, five points to Ravenclaw,” Regina says, raising her wand. “Miss Shelley is absolutely correct. The wand motion is as follows: diagonal to the left then straight across to the right. Watch me.” The students turn to look at her as she waves her wand the proper way, slowly at first and then full speed. “Now, I want you all to practice the motion without the incantation. Let me see.”

Swishing sounds add to the cacophony of the moving armor as the students wave their wands accordingly with varying degrees of fluidity.

“It’s a sharper angle on the diagonal, Miss Dorme… yes, there you go,” Regina corrects, walking slowly behind the line of students. “Alright, so we’re going to put the incantation and the motion together. You each have a suit of armor in front of you. I want you to use that as your target. If you’re successful, the armor should freeze in place and it’s limbs should snap straight. I don’t expect you to succeed on the first attempt, so keep trying until you’ve gotten it a few times. To reverse the effects of the curse, simply use  _ Finite Incantatum.  _ Questions before we start?”

A few students continue to practice their wand motions, but no one raises a hand. “Very well. You may begin,” Regina instructs, taking a step back from the students to observe their- hopefully not completely awful- performances.

_ “Petrificus Totalus!”  _ several students shout, not entirely in unison, followed by the slower utterances of other students. A few spells hit their targets, but the suits of armor simply freeze for a moment, as if stunned, before continuing in their mechanical dance.

“Keep trying,” Regina encourages, cringing slightly as a wayward spell shoots past the suits of armor completely and crashes into the back wall. She starts to walk slowly behind her students. “Be more forceful in your motion, Miss Frost. The spell isn’t going to bite you, you don’t need to be afraid of it.”

_ “Petrificus Totalus!”  _

“Come on, you blasted piece of metal, stop moving already.”

“Bloody hell- uh, I mean, bugger, professor…  _ finite incantatum.” _

“Oh, nice shot, Tiana!”

“Thanks, but it only got me the arms. I got the legs last time, you know.”

_ “Petrificus Totalus!” _

The rest of the period goes by quickly with only one very close mishap (thankfully no limbs were  _ actually  _ lost, but it did appear to be touch-and-go for a moment). “For homework, I want one page of parchment comparing and contrasting the Freezing Spell and the Full Body-Bind Curse,” Regina calls as her students gather their things at the end of class. “Due  _ tomorrow  _ for a grade. Friendly reminder to use your textbooks. You do have them for a reason.”

“Have a good rest of your day, Professor Mills,” Aurora Dorme says with a smile as she heads toward the door.

“Thank you, Miss Dorme. You as well,” Regina replies, dropping down into her desk chair with a sigh. She rubs her temples as the last stragglers filter out of the room. She will  _ not  _ be using suits of armor for this lesson next year, that’s for sure. Her ears will probably still be ringing tomorrow. But what could she use instead? The Body-Bind Curse is painful, so she can’t ask for living volunteers. Maybe she could use the suits of armor but cast a Silencing Spell on them to block out all that screeching and squeaking. What did Emma use for this lesson? It has to be written down in her lesson plans somewhere…

A knock on the doorframe draws Regina’s attention from her desk. “Morning, Ruby,” she greets as the Transfiguration professor enters, strolling past the lines of desks until she reaches the front of the classroom.

“Good morning, Mills,” Ruby replies, glancing to the side at the suits of armor for a split second and then doing a double-take. “Hey, I was wondering where those got to earlier. What’d you need twenty suits of armor for?”

“My fifth years are starting Immobilization Spells, and we’re on the Full Body-Bind Curse,” Regina explains. “I thought the armor would be good practice targets, but I forgot how loud they can be when they move around. I gave myself a headache and probably punctured an eardrum or two.”

“Hmm, I think Emma used John’s Boxwood shrubs- you know, the ones he shapes to look like different animals and stuff? I think she did the same thing you did and enchanted them to move around so the students could stun them.” Ruby shrugs. “It’ll make a mess of leaves on your floor, but it’ll be quiet at least.”

_ Shrubs,  _ that was what Emma had written down in her lesson plans. “I think you’re right, Ruby, now that you mention it,” Regina says, grabbing a quill and making a note to ask John about his plants later. If he agrees, she’ll be able to use the plants for the Gryffindor and Slytherin fifth years tomorrow and hopefully save herself another headache. She sets her quill back in its ink jar and looks up to see Ruby glancing around a bit nervously, her fingers fidgeting with the pendant on the long silver necklace she’s wearing.

“Is something the matter?” Regina asks. “You seem a bit… anxious.”

“Hmm?” Ruby hums as she turns back from looking out the window. “Oh, um, yes, actually. Something is the matter.” She glances over her shoulder and gestures toward a desk chair. “Do you mind if I…?” 

“No, not at all. Sit, please,” Regina says, chewing her bottom lip as Ruby takes a seat.  _ Please don’t be about the investigation,  _ she silently pleads. It’s been a little over a month since Grump’s cat was found Petrified and the ominous warning found on the wall, and in that time, she and Robin have found exactly zero answers, explanations, or suspects. It’s looking more and more like they may never find out what truly happened. Luckily, another incident has not occurred and for the most part, the students have seemed to forgotten about it in favor of focusing on newer, more intriguing gossip. Still, as much as she wishes she could ignore Gold’s insinuation that she’s failing, she can’t help but find herself beginning to agree with him.

So Regina swallows, forces a smile, and asks, “What’s up?”

Ruby fidgets for a second longer and glances at the door before answering. “I don’t, um… I don’t suppose you pay attention to the lunar calendar, do you?”

Ah. So not about the investigation, then. “No, I can’t say I give it too much thought,” Regina replies.

Ruby nods. “Yeah, I… I didn’t think so.” She starts playing with her necklace again and as she twists it, Regina gets a better look at the pendant for the first time. A crescent moon. “Well… last night was a full moon,” Ruby explains, tucking a piece of hair behind her ear. “And, um… look, I’m just going to say it, alright? I transformed last night and for the first time in… what feels like forever, I completely lost control. I don’t remember any of it.”

Regina raises her eyebrows. It’s not a secret Ruby is a werewolf, an unusual instance for a kind of people who usually spend most of their lives in hiding and ashamed. But Ruby is a special case in that she didn’t develop her condition through a bite from a werewolf. Rather, she inherited her lupine curse from her mother, and has lived with it all her life. Consequently, she doesn’t experience transformations like a typical werewolf who loses all sense of humanity under the full moon. For as long as Regina has known Ruby, she has always been able to control herself while in wolf form. She had even come to embrace it, to use her unique ability to her advantage, but if the distraught look on Ruby’s face is any indication, her acceptance of her curse has flown right out the window. 

“So… what happened? You blacked out for most of the night?” Regina asks, picking at a loose gold thread on her robes.

“Sort of,” Ruby answers. “I don’t know. I have… flashes of the night, but no recollection like I usually do. I knew it was the full moon yesterday and I could feel it coming all day. It’s kind of hard to explain, but when I’m about to transform, there’s like an itchy prickling under my skin. I always know when it’s coming. And I’ll transform and still be… myself. Just as a wolf.” She lowers her voice on that last sentence, and that’s new as well. Ruby’s never been one to hide who she is. “But last night… I don’t know. It was like one second I was in my chambers, and then the next…”

She shakes her head. “I woke up in the forest this morning. My clothes all ripped and…” She closes her eyes. “I had blood. On my hands.”

Regina swallows, heart suddenly beating hard against her ribcage. “You don’t… you didn’t…”

“Bite anyone?” Ruby finishes. “I don’t know. I don’t… I don’t  _ think  _ I did, but… I’ve been keeping my eye on the papers and my ear on the radio for news of a werewolf attack nearby. So far, there’s been nothing, and I am praying it stays that way.”

Regina nods. “Yeah, let’s hope.” She exhales slowly. “Alright, so what does this mean? Why did it happen? I don’t remember you ever saying you’ve completely lost control before.”

“I haven’t,” Ruby says, face painted in all shades of worry. “At least, not that I can remember. Maybe when I was little and learning how to control it, but never since. I have no idea what could have caused it.”

“What did Dorothy say?” Regina asks, sitting back in her chair.

“She’s away,” Ruby sighs. “She’s been on assignment in the States for the last three weeks.” 

“Do you think that might have had something to do with it?” Regina guesses. “Maybe you’re stressed about Dorothy being away, being safe…”

“My wife has certainly been in more dangerous places for longer periods of time than this and that hasn’t made my transformations uncontrollable,” Ruby says, shaking her head. “I mean, she’s always helped me through them, of course. They can be painful if the moon is especially bright or if the cycle has been long, but that wasn’t the case last night.”

“Well, do you think if Dorothy had been home, you would have been able to get yourself under control, even though you didn’t start out that way?”

Ruby chews on her bottom lip and stays quiet for a moment. Regina glances down at her fidgeting hands and ignores how Ruby presses her thumb against the pointed end of her crescent pendant repeatedly, hard enough to turn her skin white. “I don’t know,” she admits. “I’m actually kind of glad she wasn’t there. I don’t want to think about how I might have…” She closes her eyes, shaking her head. “I’ve been lucky, you know. Most werewolves can’t hold jobs, can’t live with other people, can’t be like normal wizards. But I can. And when I woke up this morning, all I could think is what if this isn’t a one-time thing? What if this keeps happening?”

She glances over her shoulder and then drops her voice to a whisper. “What if I had hurt a student? What if I passed on this terrible thing to someone else? I... I wouldn't be able to live with myself. I can’t- I don’t know what to do.”

“Okay, well you didn’t hurt a student, you didn’t hurt Dorothy,” Regina says calmly, evenly. “Chances are, the blood on your hands was from some deer in the forest. You haven’t hurt anyone. And you won’t.”

Ruby takes a deep breath and nods. “You’re right. I won’t. And you’re going to make sure I don’t.”

Regina blinks. “Excuse me?” She had been about to go into a reassuring speech about how Ruby is in control of herself and no stupid curse can take away her agency and she just needs to keep faith in herself, but that all dies on the tip of her tongue.

“There is a potion for werewolves,” Ruby explains. “It’s relatively new. Wolfsbane? I don’t know if you’ve heard of it.”

Regina nods. “Yes, I’m familiar with it.” Of course, familiar doesn’t stem much further than having read an article in  _ Potions Quarterly _ a few months back, but still. Familiar.

“Well, it’s making a lot of waves in the werewolf community,” Ruby says. “It makes transformations… bearable. People have said that they have full control of themselves while in their wolf forms. Like I usually do.”

“Sounds like that could help a lot of people,” Regina observes.

“Yeah, it could be revolutionary for werewolves. The only problem is that it’s very difficult to make.” Ruby smiles at her, slowly, pointedly. “It’s something only a very  _ skilled  _ witch or wizard could brew.”

Regina raises an eyebrow. “I’m not the Potions madam anymore, Ruby. I’m not the one responsible for making potions required of the school.”

Ruby rolls her eyes. “Oh, please. You can’t possibly expect me to go to  _ Gold  _ about this, can you?” She leans forward, body language open and honest. “Regina, you’re the only person I trust with this. I’m not asking as an employee of the school or as your colleague. I’m asking as your friend- a friend who is worried and frankly, scared. Please. I don’t want to be afraid of myself every month.”

It’s not really a hard decision to make. Regina hadn’t honestly meant for Ruby to take this to Gold, but of the little she knows about Wolfsbane, she knows it is indeed quite the advanced potion. It requires careful attention and monitoring, and she can’t guarantee that she will have the time necessary to ensure that it is brewed properly. And with it being such a new potion, the side effects are most likely not entirely understood just yet, meaning that a whole host things could go wrong. 

Still, she has a sense of what Ruby must be going through. She knows what it’s like. She’s been afraid of herself too, and there is nothing in the world that is quite so terrifying.

So she leans back in her seat and sighs. “I’m going to have to refresh my supply of rat spleens,” she says as Ruby’s face splits into a wide grin. “And whip up more scarab beetle mixture, so it won’t be ready right away but… I should have it for you by the next full moon.”

Ruby jumps up and scurries around Regina’s desk, throwing her arms around her. “Thank you, Mills,” she gushes, squeezing hard. “Thank you so, so much. You have no idea how relieved I feel.”

Regina stiffens under Ruby’s hug and pats her back a bit awkwardly. “Uh, you’re welcome.”

“Professor Mills! I- oh, um… sorry, I didn’t mean to interrupt.”

Ruby lets Regina go and they both turn to see Roland Knight standing in the doorway.

“You’re not interrupting, Mr. Knight,” Regina says, waving him into the room. “Do you need something?”

Roland shakes his head as he half-walks, half-bounces up the aisle between rows of desks. “No, Professor Locksley sent me with a message.”

“A message?” Regina repeats, fighting against a smile. “Well, you can tell Professor Locksley I don’t negotiate with the enemy.”

“It’s not a negotiation, professor,” Roland replies, rocking on the balls of his feet. “Professor Locksley said to tell you that he hopes you’ve found a good chocolate gateau recipe because that’s what you’re going to make him when he wins.”

“Wins?” Ruby asks, raising an eyebrow as she turns to Regina.

“Professor Locksley and I have a bit of a wager going on,” Regina explains, settling back in her chair. “He seems to think that I am not very…  _ generous _ when it comes to awarding points for good behavior. So he bet me that I couldn’t give more points in a week than he. Mr. Knight here, along with Mr. Colter and Miss Kaylor, have been keeping a tally for us.”

“And making sure no one cheats,” Roland adds. “Because Professor Locksley said Professor Mills gets very competitive, and he doesn’t want her awarding points for no reason just to win.”

“Please,” Regina scoffs. “I’m not the one who awarded a student five points just for holding a door open.”

“Well, technically that  _ is  _ good behavior…” Ruby points out, clamping her mouth shut when Regina glares at her.

“You can tell Professor Locksley that his message has been received,” Regina says to Roland. “And you can also tell him to find a good pair of rubber gloves because I’m sure he won’t want to touch many of the things in my potion stores when he cleans for me.”

“I’ll tell him,” Roland promises with a nod. “Or, I’ll tell Henry to tell him. I already had Flying today.”

“How is Flying going?” Regina asks. “Still well?”

“Yeah, we had races today,” Roland answers. “There were four rounds and I won all four! But it wasn’t really fair, I guess. I  _ am  _ the only second year in the class, after all.”

Regina smiles good-naturedly because yes, Roland is the only second year in the class, but he’s also younger than ninety-five percent of the first years, so being a year above them really isn’t any kind of advantage. “Well, good, I’m glad,” Regina says, glancing at the clock on the wall. “Where are you supposed to be right now, Mr. Knight? You don’t have a free period until the afternoon.”

“I had an Astronomy exam and Professor Jones allowed us to leave once we finished,” Roland replies. “Henry, Violet, and I are going to get a head start on lunch.”

“I see. Well, I won’t keep you from your food. Make sure you pass my message along to Professor Locksley, though.”

Roland grins. “Will do, professor. I’ll see you in class later.” He waves at Ruby and then half-walks, half-bounces back the way he came, turning out of the classroom. 

Regina chuckles and shakes her head. She looks over at Ruby to share her amusement, but frowns when she sees the smirk Ruby’s giving her. “What?” Regina asks, a tad defensively.

“So, uh, how  _ is  _ Professor Locksley?” Ruby saunters back over to the chair in front of Regina’s desk and plops down, raising her eyebrows. 

“Fine,” Regina says slowly, narrowing her eyes. “Why?”

Ruby shrugs innocently. “I don’t know. It’s just that you two have been spending a lot of time together lately.”

“He’s helping me figure out what happened to Grump’s cat,” Regina states plainly.

“So you mean you  _ haven’t  _ tapped that yet?”

“Ruby!” Regina exclaims indignantly.

“What? I’m just curious,” Ruby says dismissively. “Because if I were spending all those late nights with  _ those  _ arms and  _ that  _ smile, let’s just say we’d be focusing on  _ my _ Chamber of Secrets, if you know what I mean.”

Regina wrinkles her nose at Ruby’s euphemism. “That’s disgusting, and sorry to disappoint, but Robin and I are just friends.”

“Just friends who are into each other.”

Regina scoffs and crosses her arms. “You’re ridiculous.”

“Am I?” Ruby challenges. “You blush practically every time he looks at you.”

“I don’t blush,” Regina denies. “If anything, I turn red because he did or said something that infuriated me. Because that’s what he is- annoying.”

“Annoying and damn good looking.”

Regina rolls her eyes. “Does your wife know you talk about other people like that?”

Ruby continues to smirk, unfazed. “Deny it all you want, Mills, but you can’t hide it from me,” she declares, standing up to leave.

“I will continue to deny it because you’re wrong,” Regina insists, lifting her eyebrows haughtily.

“If I’m so wrong, then why are you blushing right now?”

Regina’s eyes widen as her hand flies to her cheek. Sure enough, her skin is quite hot and, most likely, bright red.

Ruby chuckles as she walks out of the classroom. “See you later, Professor Mills.”

Regina drops her hand from her face and frowns deeply. Ruby can think she’s right all she wants, but she’s not. Robin is a  _ friend.  _ A very dear friend who she is quite thankful to have back in her life again. And okay, yes, he’s very… good looking, and fine, she’d be lying if she said she hasn’t appreciated his form over the past few weeks, but he’s  _ Robin _ . Robin, with his kind nature and gentle soul. Robin, with his quick wit and hearty laugh. Robin, with his eyes that are so expressive and deep, that are sky blue when he wears his quidditch robes and more green when he wears the gold colors of his House…

Regina blinks and snaps herself back to the present. She clears her throat and straightens her spine, shaking off whatever Robin-centric spiral her mind had been stuck in. Ruby is delusional. There’s nothing between her and Robin aside from their long and complicated history and their rediscovered friendship. That’s it. Just friendship. And anything else that Ruby thinks she sees, just isn’t there.

Regina tucks a loose strand of hair behind her ear and stands to get ready for her next class, pressing the back of her hand to her cheek to make sure her blush is going down. It is, thankfully. Honestly, she doesn’t have time sit around and gossip about boys, not with how much she has on her plate. She shouldn’t have entertained the conversation in the first place.

So she heads toward her shelves and starts gathering what she needs for the Hufflepuff and Ravenclaw third years. And if her stomach flutters at the thought of seeing Robin later to settle their bet, well. No one else has to know.

* * *

 

It looks like it’s going to rain. Robin glances up at the sky and scratches his chin, frowning at the white grey clouds in the distance. It’s been sunny all day, but a tad too warm for October, so it’s no wonder Mother Nature has sent a storm to rectify the temperature. Hopefully it’s not a heavy downpour. He really doesn’t want to have to cover the pitch with the tarp.

A whirl of green shoots by over his head and Robin returns his attention to the Slytherin team practicing in the air above him. He leans on his broom handle as Piedmont shouts something at the Chasers. Usually, Robin would be in the air for a team’s practice, but some of the Slytherin players have a tendency to…  _ irk _ him more often than not, and so he’s taken to staying on the ground unless necessity requires otherwise. They don’t usually listen to him anyway, so he might as well save himself both the energy and the breath.

“Boy, I wish I got paid to literally stand around.”

Robin looks over his shoulder to see Killian coming his way, crossing the half of the pitch with easy strides. “You get paid to stargaze,” Robin retorts, turning fully around. “I fail to see a difference.”

Killian smirks. “Agree to disagree,” he says, tucking his hands in his robes pockets. “Although, aren’t you supposed to be in the air during practice?”

“I’ve found that the Slytherin team and I work better when there’s some distance between us,” Robin answers, glancing up at the students above them. “Saves us all some headaches.” Just then, Aladdin Ali hits a Bludger toward Drizella Tremaine and Robin rolls his eyes as she starts yelling and screeching at him. “What can I do for you, Killian?” he sighs.

“I actually wanted to talk to you about a couple of the Slytherin players,” Killian says, lowering his voice a bit. “They can’t hear us up there, can they?”

“No, and even if they could, they’re too busy screaming at each other to listen.”

“Good. Listen, Gold already knows about this, but I’m bringing it to you because I doubt he’s going to do anything about it,” Killian prefaces.

His serious tone grabs Robin’s attention more than before. “What’s the matter?”

“I gave an exam yesterday to my fifth years,” Killian explains. “And I caught Hans Sutherland and Gideon Aurum cheating. They had the answers written on their arms with invisible ink and when they tapped their wrists the right way, the words appeared.”

Robin pulls a face. “Wow, we were never that clever when we cheated in school.”

“Yeah, but now I’ve got a problem,” Killian says. “I failed them on the exam and told Gold about it. I said I think they should be suspended from quidditch until they’re back in good standing, but Slytherin plays-”

“Ravenclaw on Saturday,” Robin finishes, nodding. “And there’s no way Gold is going to bench two of his starting players for that match.”

“Exactly. I don’t think he’s planning on discipling them at all to be honest, but this isn’t the first time either of them has been caught for something like this, and I want to see proper consequences. So I was wondering if you might be able to skirt around Gold in a way and bench them?”

Robin rubs his jaw, thinking. “I’m not really sure if I have the authority to do that, actually,” he says. “I don’t think I have much power in the area of discipline beyond, you know, what happens on the pitch. And the Slytherin players may be annoying, but they haven’t broken any rules.” He pauses for a second before adding, “Yet.”

“So there’s nothing you can do?” Killian asks dismally.

“Maybe, but I don’t want to overstep and increase the target Gold has on my back already,” Robin replies as a gust of wind blows through the pitch, rustling both their robes. “He hasn’t been pleased with me since I started helping Regina look into the whole thing with Grump’s cat.”

“Pretty sure he hasn’t been pleased with you since the day he met you,” Killian grumbles, crossing his arms. “I just hate the thought of them getting away with a slap on the wrist.”

“Why don’t you go to Merlin about it?”

Killian rolls his eyes. “Gold will just contradict whatever I tell Merlin and make it seem like they were punished appropriately. Or say that the whole Slytherin team shouldn’t be punished for the actions of two of the players.”

Robin sighs and runs a hand down his face. “Alright, let me… let me think about it. See what I can do. I can’t promise anything, though.”

“Yeah, of course,” Killian agrees. “Thank you, I appreciate it.”

“Sure, no problem.” Robin pulls back his sleeve and checks his watch, frowning at the time. “And they’ve gone over time. Shocker.” He pulls out his whistle and blows it sharply, motioning for the Slytherins to wrap it up.

“Do you have Gryffindor next?” Killian asks as the Slytherin players descend from the air.

“Usually, but Merida cancelled today. She said she wants to give the team a rest day,” Robin answers, using his wand to flick open the case for the balls. Aladdin Ali staggers over and wrestles the Bludgers into their compartments, nearly knocking into Peter Piedmont who holds the Quaffle and Snitch. “If you can’t get the Bludgers in, just leave them, Mr. Ali,” Robin calls. “I’ll take care of them.”

“It’s no problem, sir,” Aladdin grunts, using his whole body to force the Bludgers to stay still while he fastens the straps in place. “I got it.”

“He gave himself a black eye last week doing that,” Robin mutters with a shake of his head. “I admire his tenacity, though.”

Killian chuckles and then frowns, squinting at something in the distance. “What’s Regina doing here if you don’t have the Gryffindors today?”

Robin turns and fights a smile when he sees Regina crossing the pitch toward them, three short Gryffindors following behind her. “Oh, I believe she’s here for something else,” Robin says.

Killian gives him a look like he knows something Robin doesn’t, but chooses not to comment. Instead, he claps him on the shoulder. “Well, thanks again, mate. Let me know what you come up with.”

Robin promises he will and then Killian walks away, greeting Regina as they cross paths. Robin glances over at the ball case, mildly impressed that Aladdin managed to get the Bludgers strapped down after all. He flicks his wand again and the lid closes and fastens. When he looks back up, the Slytherins have mostly made their way off the pitch as Regina, Henry, Roland, and Violet cross the final few yards to him.

“Well, what do we have here?” he says, smirking at the faux serious expression on Regina’s face.

“Time to pay up, Locksley,” she replies, crossing her arms. 

Robin brings his hand to his chest, feigning hurt. “What, not even a proper hello? Gambling is no excuse for poor manners, professor.”

Roland giggles behind Regina and she looks over her shoulder at him with an arched eyebrow. He clamps his mouth shut, but his dimples still poke through as he struggles not to laugh again.

“Well, alright, if you want to get right down to it, by all means,” Robin says, gesturing for them to begin.

Regina turns to Violet. “Miss Kaylor, if you would be so kind.”

Violet steps forward and pulls a bit of parchment from her robes pocket. She clears her throat. “So, the bet was made that Professor Mills couldn’t award more points than Professor Locksley in a week,” she states, looking between the two.

Regina continues to stare Robin down, but he just smirks at her, knowing she’s trying not to break. The muscles in her jaw are tight as she presses her lips together.

“So we kept a tally of the hourglasses to see how many points you each awarded and took away,” Violet goes on. “Professor Mills awarded 75 points this past week and took away 15 for a cumulative total of 60 points.”

“Sixty,” Regina repeats proudly, holding up six fingers. “Would have been more if I hadn’t taken points away from Mr. Booth for pouring a bowl of soup on his brother’s head.”

Robin snickers. “I forgot about that.”

“Professor Locksley awarded 70 points,” Violet continues. “And subtracted…” She looks at Henry and Roland who start patting their hands on their thighs quickly in a mock drum roll. “Only 5 points! For a grand total of 65 points. Professor Locksley wins!”

Regina’s jaw drops open as Roland and Henry let out a couple of whoops, betraying their Head of House in a most comical way. Robin’s face splits into a wide grin and he bows dramatically. “Thank you, thank you very much,” he declares cheekily. “It’s a great honor, really.”

“I can’t believe it!” Regina exclaims, hands going to her hips. “I was so  _ generous  _ this week. And I let things slide that I definitely should not have.”

“Wow, so you tried to cheat, and you  _ still  _ lost,” Robin gloats. “That’s a little sad.”

Regina rolls her eyes. “Whatever, Locksley. Technically, I did award more points than you. I just took more away.”

“Ah, so maybe this is telling you to be less of a hardass,” Robin teases to the delight of Henry, Roland, and Violet who all start laughing and trying to hide it.

Regina’s eyes widen, probably at his use of the word ‘hardass’ in front of students, and yeah, that probably wasn’t the best choice, but well, it’s out there now. Can’t take it back. She turns to her giggling students and says, “Alright, you three, thank you for your tallying skills. That’ll be all, head on up to dinner now.”

“We’re going to get some of your cake, right Professor Locksley?” Henry asks eagerly as the three of them start to slowly walk back across the pitch.

“Certainly, good sir,” Robin promises. “I wouldn’t want to keep my winnings all to myself.” He winks and Henry grins, scurrying to keep up with his friends. 

Once they’re out of earshot, Regina punches his shoulder. “Don’t call me a hardass,” she admonishes, pointing a finger in his face.

“Sorry, it just slipped out,” Robin chuckles, pushing her finger back down. “Although, you  _ are  _ a hardass.”

Regina gives him an unamused look and crosses her arms.

“Oh, stop, you’re just mad that I won,” Robin says dismissively. “And speaking of, I will accept my reward in the form of either chocolate gateau or coconut cake. I’m not picky.”

“You’re getting an apple pie,” Regina deadpans.

Robin nods. “Alrighty then. Can I get some ice cream with it?”

“You’ll get whipped cream if you’re lucky.”

“Yep, sounds about right. Here, hold this for me?” He passes his broom to Regina and then walks over to the ball chest, hoisting it onto his shoulder with a grunt. “You know, if you had won, I’d have let you pick whatever you wanted as a prize and not put my own conditions on it.”

“Yeah, well, no one ever said I was a good loser,” she replies as they start to walk across the pitch.

“Very true. I seem to remember several bets you lost as a student that ended with me or Daniel having pink hair or misshapen ears for a few days.”

Regina smiles, her lips painted a lovely maroon today. Her robes are simple black with a bit of gold embroidery around the waist, just enough for a pop of color. Her hair is up, twisted into a bun on the top of her head, but quite a few pieces have slipped free throughout the day, fallen down around her face and neck. The wind starts to pick up again as the storm in the distance moves closer, and Regina tosses her head to get the flyaway hairs out of her face.

“Looks like rain,” she comments, eyes shifting up to the darkening sky. “Hopefully it’ll drive away the last of the humidity that’s been clinging around. My classroom feels sticky.”

“Mine feels great,” Robin says, gesturing around at the pitch and earning himself another smack to the shoulder.

“I might be a hardass, but  _ you’re _ a smartass,” she quips with a glare.

“It’s all part of my charm,” Robin replies with a cheeky grin. “Although-”

“ _ You take that back!” _

Both Robin’s and Regina’s heads snap forward at the sudden shout. Robin groans internally because that yell definitely came from Roland who, alarmingly, has his wand drawn as he glowers at Peter Piedmont and Hans Sutherland, who are still evidently lingering about the pitch despite practice having ended a while ago. Violet and Henry stand behind Roland, a confused look on Henry’s face and something resembling shock painted across Violet’s.

“Mr. Knight!” Regina cries, dropping Robin’s broom to hurry over and intervene. Robin bends down and deposits the ball chest on the ground and follows, a rumble of thunder sounding in the distance.

Roland ignores Regina’s call of his name and shouts some spell Robin’s never heard of, eliciting a blast of yellow magic from the end of his wand. But instead of traveling toward Piedmont, who Robin assumes was the intended recipient, the spell implodes and shoots backward, smacking Roland in the chest and knocking him to the ground.

“Roland!” a bunch of voices all exclaim at once. Henry and Violet drop to the ground beside him and help him sit up. He groans, his face a sickly shade of green.

Regina kneels down beside him and presses the back of her hand to his forehand. “Roland, are you okay?”

He doesn’t get a chance to answer because he promptly doubles over and throws up, something lumpy and unsettling spilling from his mouth. Regina grimaces and turns her head away as Henry’s face contorts with disgust. “Oh, gross. Are those  _ slugs?” _

Roland vomits again and, sure enough, slugs splat onto the ground. 

Robin’s stomach turns over at the disturbing sight. Whatever spell Roland had used is certainly unforgiving. Robin goes to kneel down beside Roland as well, but Piedmont stops him.

“You little  _ shit,”  _ he growls, yanking out his wand. “I’ll teach you to try and jinx  _ me.” _

He raises his wand, but Robin is faster, instinct and fury taking over as he raises his own wand, shooting out just a zap of a stunning spell, enough to knock Piedmont off his feet but without harming him.

“Robin!” Regina exclaims in alarm, but he ignores her.

“You do  _ not  _ point your wand at a wizard who is down,” Robin seethes, stalking over and towering above Piedmont as he props himself up on his elbows, lips curled up in a snarl. “Especially not one who is barely eleven years old!”

“Robin!” Regina snaps again.

He whips around in frustration. “ _ What?” _

To his surprise, Regina is not glaring at Piedmont or Sutherland, but at him. “We do not use magic on students as punishment!” she shouts furiously.

“It wasn’t a punishment, he was going to hurt Roland!” Robin protests, pointing accusingly at Piedmont.

“Because he was going to hurt me first!” Piedmont yells, jumping to his feet. 

“You deserved it!” Roland shouts just before another few slugs force their way up his throat. 

“You started it!”

“Did not!”

“Did too!”

“Enough!” Regina yells, standing with her hands on her hips. “I don’t want to hear another word from anyone!” She turns and glares at Peter. “ _ Piedmont, if you don’t put your wand away, Dumbledore help me, I will snap it in two _ .” Piedmont’s snarl stays on his face, but he obeys and begrudgingly tucks his wand away. Regina shifts her deadly glare to Robin, a single eyebrow raised and the message is clear: he damn well better put his wand away too. He exhales sharply in frustration and slides his wand back into his robes, making sure it’s quickly within reach. Just in case.

Regina turns her glare on the three young Gryffindors and softens just slightly. “Mr. Colter, Miss Kaylor, please escort Mr. Knight up to the infirmary. Let Granny Lucas know what’s happened. Once he’s cleared, I expect all three of you to meet us in Professor Merlin’s office. Understood?”

“Yes, ma’am,” both Henry and Violet mumble as they help Roland to his feet. He puts an arm around each of their shoulders and they slowly make their way out of the quidditch stadium and up toward the castle, stopping every dozen feet so Roland can vomit more slugs.

Regina spins back around on the Slytherins left behind. “Piedmont, Sutherland, you will come with me and Professor Locksley to Professor Merlin’s office, and for every word you say on the way there, I will be sure to add a week to your punishment. Got it?”

They grumble something in response, but Regina doesn’t wait for them to get their act together. She walks off without another word, but takes a second to stare hard at Robin, radiating a type of anger he’s never encountered from her before. It sends a lick of dread running through him, and even though the students are the ones getting in trouble, he can’t help but feel like he’s the one who’s screwed.

* * *

 

It’s raining. Hard and strong, steady  _ tap, tap, taps  _ against the windows in Merlin’s office, the glass appearing black and opaque in the darkness of early night. The crackling of the fire in Merlin’s fireplace wards off the chill that can set in your bones with autumn rain, but Robin feels anything but cozy as he stands rigid, arms crossed, to the side of the headmaster’s desk.

Regina is standing beside him, but she’s hardly looked at him, furious as she is. She hasn’t spoken to him since they left the quidditch pitch and he can practically feel the anger radiating off her.

“We were just minding our own business, sir,” Piedmont insists to Merlin, hands clasped behind his back. “But those Gryffindors were looking for trouble, especially Colter. He called Sutherland a… a rude term, sir.”

Robin’s jaw clenches and unclenches. He doesn’t know exactly what started the fight, but he knows not to trust a word that comes out of Piedmont’s mouth, especially where Henry is concerned.

“And what term was that, Mr. Sutherland?” Merlin asks, his fingers steepled together.

Hans’ eyes are cast downward, a look of hesitation on his face until Piedmont elbows him in the side. He lifts his head and swallows. “Mudblood, sir,” he says. “He used the term ‘mudblood.’”

Merlin nods slowly. “And what do you think might have provoked Mr. Colter to use such a word?”

Hans starts to reply, but Piedmont jumps in. “Well, isn’t it obvious? Colter has it out for mud- for, uh, students who don’t come from wizarding families. Hans is a halfblood, aren’t ya?”

Sutherland nods. “My mother is a muggle, sir.”

“Yes, I am aware,” Merlin says, shifting in his seat. “However, that still doesn’t tell me why, as you claim, Mr. Colter would accost you in such a way.”

“Don’t you remember what he wrote on the wall at the start of term?” Piedmont asks. “‘Enemies of the heir, beware’- he’s talking about halfbloods and muggleborns. He wants to clear the school of them, just like Salazar Slytherin.”

Robin lifts his eyes to the ceiling and sighs because honestly, haven’t they moved on from such ludicrousness by now? He chances a glance at Regina. Her knuckles are white as she digs her fingers into her biceps, arms crossed tightly.

“Colter’s probably trying to figure out who he wants to target, so when he saw Hans-”

“As interesting as that tale is, Mr. Piedmont,” Regina interrupts sharply, “I’m afraid it is not based on a single shred of truth. Everything you’ve just said is purely malicious gossip.”

Piedmont looks at Regina with a tight smile. “Forgive me, professor, but you weren’t there. Both Hans and I heard Colter insult Hans, and everyone knows that Colter was the one who messed with Grump’s cat.”

“Really? Well, if everyone thinks Mr. Colter is responsible, then clearly he must be,” Regina replies sarcastically. “Let me just get him and we’ll expel him at once.”

“Regina,” Merlin says calmly, causing Regina to exhale slowly. He looks back to the two boys. “Thank you for telling me your version of events, Mr. Piedmont. I will concur with Mr. Colter and Mr. Knight to see if they agree. In the meantime, I’m afraid I cannot overlook your own actions.”

Piedmont scowls, indignant. “But-”

“Regardless of the surrounding circumstances, you aimed your wand at a defenseless student who was clearly unable to protect himself,” Merlin continues, holding up a hand for silence. “That not only violates dueling protocol, but is against school rules as well. I’m afraid you’ll have to be punished.”

“Me? What about Knight?” Piedmont protests. “He went to attack me first!”

“Mr. Knight will be dealt with once he has been released from the infirmary.”

Piedmont turns his glare on Robin. “What about him, huh? He used magic on me. Pretty sure that’s against school rules.”

Robin bites down on his tongue hard as Regina bristles beside him. She might be mad at him, but she’s even more mad at Piedmont, and his behavior since coming up from the pitch has done nothing to improve that.

“Professor Locksley does not concern you, Mr. Piedmont,” Merlin says sternly. “He acted in a way that he deemed appropriate for the situation. Now, since your insubordination occurred at the conclusion of quidditch practice, I believe a suspension of one week from all quidditch activities is a reasonable consequence.”

“But-”

“You are dismissed, Mr. Piedmont.”

Piedmont’s mouth twists into a snarl, fists clenched as he tries hard to maintain his composure. Robin’s expecting him to explode, but he merely turns on his heel and stalks toward the door. Before exiting, however, he turns around and glares at Robin once more. “My father will hear about this,” he seethes and then storms out of the room.

Robin rolls his eyes. He  _ hopes  _ Malcolm Piedmont hears about this. It’s been awhile since he’s gotten into a good duel, and after the events of this afternoon, he could really work off the steam. He would love to see Malcolm’s beak of a nose get broken with a good stunner-

Regina punches him in the arm and Robin whips around to see Merlin looking at him expectantly. Apparently he’s been asked a question. “Um, I’m sorry, what did you say, sir?”

“I asked if you will be sure to keep Piedmont away from the pitch for the next week? He’s not to be anywhere near it,” Merlin repeats.

“Of course,” Robin says. “Though I’m sure Gold won’t take that very well.”

“Don’t worry about Alastor,” Merlin dismisses. “Could the two of you give me and Mr. Sutherland a moment, please? I would like to speak to him privately.”

Hans continues to stare down at his feet sullenly. He doesn’t look afraid of punishment or angry like Piedmont. He looks upset, but Robin cannot imagine why.

Regina walks past him without a word, and he can feel the tension rolling off her as he follows out the door and down the spiral staircase to the corridor. With each step, the dread in his stomach increases because she’s going to yell at him. She’s going to yell at him so much. And alright, fine, maybe he deserves it. He knew magic is not to be used on students, but what was he supposed to do? Let Roland get jinxed by that prick? No, absolutely not. So fine, he’ll take the yelling and anger and the sanctions from Merlin that are probably coming his way because at least Roland didn’t get hurt anymore than he already was.

They reach the bottom step and Robin braces himself for a verbal beating, but it never comes.

“Miss Kaylor, Mr. Colter, have you been waiting long?” Regina asks as Violet and Henry stand from where they had been sitting on the floor.

“No, ma’am. We just left Roland in the infirmary,” Violet answers.

Regina nods. “The headmaster is just speaking with Mr. Sutherland at the moment. He should be with you shortly.”

“Did you see Piedmont come out this way?” Robin asks, glancing down either end of the corridor for the irate Slytherin. 

“Yeah, he came out just a second ago,” Henry says warily. “He seemed pretty angry.”

“He is,” both Regina and Robin mutter at the same time, glancing at each other and then looking away.

Robin clears his throat. “How’s Roland?”

“Better. Granny Lucas gave him some kind of tonic that settled his stomach,” Violet says, pulling on the sleeve of her uniform sweater. “She said he should be fine by morning.”

“Good. That’s good,” Regina comments absently as she chews on her bottom lip. “I know you’re about to speak to the headmaster, but I need to know, you two. What on earth happened?”

Henry glances over at Violet who looks down at her shoes, mouth falling into a frown. “Well, it sort of all happened so fast,” she says. “We were leaving the pitch and Peter and Hans were just outside it for some reason. Peter said something rude to Henry about, you know, the rumors, so I told Peter to mind his own business and to leave us alone.” She looks up, something like embarrassment on her face. “That’s when Peter, he… he called me…”

Henry straightens his shoulders, righteous anger on his face. “He called her a mudblood.”

Robin runs a hand down his face. Well, that makes way more sense than whatever crap Peter was saying. But fuck. He hasn’t heard that term in… years, probably. Ever since You Know Who fell, that sort of slander hasn’t been mainstream and he honestly had hoped it had fallen out of fashion altogether. Robin chances a glance at Regina and grimaces when he sees how pale her face has gotten. She’ll try to hide it, but it seems that word still affects her even after all these years.

“And that’s when Roland acted out, I presume?” Regina asks, her voice calm through obvious effort.

Violet nods. “Yes, he reacted before I could stop him. I’m sorry.”

“Don’t apologize, this isn’t your fault,” Robin assures her confidently. “You did nothing wrong.”

“Professor Locksley is right, Miss Kaylor,” Regina agrees. “This is not your fault, and it’s not yours either, Mr. Colter. I am sorry Mr. Piedmont used such a cruel term. I will see to it that he is reprimanded appropriately.”

“Thank you, professor,” Violet says, tucking a piece of hair behind her ear. “I don’t want to make a big deal out of it. The rumors about Henry have just started to die down and I don’t want this to stir them up again.”

Henry looks down then, embarrassed by either the rumors or Violet’s protectiveness of him, Robin can’t be sure which.

“I understand. I think that’s the last thing any of us want,” Regina replies as Hans comes down the spiral staircase that leads to Merlin’s office. 

He startles a bit at seeing the four of them at the bottom, and drops his eyes when he notices Violet. “The headmaster would like to speak with you… Violet,” he mumbles, scuffing the toe of his shoe along the floor.

“Thank you, Mr. Sutherland,” Regina says, eyebrows raised just slightly. “You may return to your Common Room, now.”

Hans nods, keeping his eyes lowered, and trudges off down the corridor.

Once he’s out of earshot, Regina turns back to Violet. “Go on up, Miss Kaylor. Don’t worry, I doubt you will be in trouble.”

Violet nods, breathes deeply, and then climbs up the stairs.

“Why doesn’t he want to talk to me?” Henry asks.

“He probably wants to do it individually,” Robin explains. “Hear each of your stories.”

Henry nods and then exhales loudly, shoulders drooping. “This is all my fault.”

“What? Henry, that’s not true,” Regina insists. Robin doesn’t know if she’s choosing to ignore her slip of his first name or if she didn’t notice it, but either way, it surprises both him and Henry. “You are not at all to blame.”

“Yeah, what makes you think you’re somehow responsible?” Robin asks, crouching down in front of Henry until they’re eye-level.

He shrugs sullenly. “Violet was standing up for me. That’s why Peter said what he did. If it weren’t for me-”

“I’m going to stop you right there,” Robin interrupts. “Violet stood up for you because Piedmont was saying untrue things, wasn’t he?”

“Yeah, but-”

“And when he called Violet that nasty word, you stood up for her, didn’t you?”

“Well, Roland mostly did that. I didn’t even know what mud- what that word meant until Violet explained it later.”

“Okay, well you helped Roland out when he hurt himself, didn’t you?”

Henry nods. “Yeah, I… I guess I did.”

“You did, because that’s what friends do, Henry. They look out for each other. Violet was standing up for you, just like you stood up for Roland, and he stood up for her. You were being a good friend. And that is not something to feel guilty about,” Robin tells him. “That’s something to be proud of. I’m proud of you, and so is Professor Mills.”

Henry looks up at Regina. “You are?”

She nods, offering a small smile. “Yes, I am. All three of you were very good Gryffindors today. You each made your House proud.”

Henry grins at that, the guilt melting from his face. A second later, his eyes get wide in realization. “Oh, shoot! I was supposed to get Roland’s pajamas from our room. Can I run back to the dormitory and get them for him?”

“Of course,” Regina allows with a nod.

Henry quirks a smile and then spins on his heel, hurrying down the corridor and out of sight.

As soon as he’s out of view, Regina’s smile evaporates and she covers her face with her hands. “Shit.”

“Yeah, that’s just about what I was thinking,” Robin agrees, scratching his chin. Piedmont- what a pretentious little prick. If he only knew how many lives were destroyed over that word, the amount of blood shed, how many people  _ died…  _

“Robin, what are we going to do?” Regina asks, worry replacing whatever residual anger she still felt for him. “We can’t let that word, that type of thinking, come back to Hogwarts. I know there are still people out there who believe in blood purity, but I had hoped… I had hoped our students wouldn’t fall prey to that kind of ideology.”

Robin sighs. “Malcolm Piedmont was a closet Deatheater, you know that. He never publicly declared his loyalty to You Know Who, but he was one of the worst undercovers that the Order ever had to deal with. He may pretend to be on the moral high ground, but he’s lower than dirt. I’m not surprised his son believes the same type of venom.”

Regina shakes her head. “I can’t believe he would use that word in front of Sutherland. No wonder Hans was so upset. His supposed best friend used a blood slur right in front of him.”

“So Hans  _ is  _ a halfblood, then?” Robin asks. “I wasn’t sure if he was lying or not.”

“Yeah, that was the truth,” Regina says, nodding. “His father works at the Ministry, but I think his mother is… an accountant? A banker? Something like that. So, yeah, he’s a halfblood which means that…  _ word  _ technically applies to him. And Piedmont said it so carelessly.”

“If I were Hans, I’d start looking for a new friend,” Robin mutters. 

Regina looks down and away and right, that was probably a little callous of him with the complicated history they have with that word and all the things said and unsaid between them. He doesn’t want to dredge up old hurt, so he brushes by it, redirects her attention with, “So what should we do? We can’t exactly change Piedmont’s beliefs, and who knows if anyone else believes the same thing?”

“I guess we can’t do that much,” Regina admits, reaching for the hair tie in her bun and pulling it free. Her hair half slides, half tumbles down from the top of her head, falling into a slightly knotty, slightly wavy tangle around her shoulders. She runs her fingers through it, frowning as they catch and pull on the messy strands. “Just make it known that intolerance will not be tolerated? Once Merlin finds out what really happens, I wouldn’t be surprised if he increased Piedmont’s punishment.”

“Gold’s going to be pissed,” Robin points out, earning himself an eye roll.

“Gold is always pissed,” Regina grumbles. “It’s a wonder he hasn’t had a heart attack from how high his blood pressure must be.” She pulls on a particularly difficult tangle and winces, nose scrunching as she tries to work it out.

“Here, let me,” Robin offers, moving her hands out of the way and running his own fingers through the knots in her hair, gingerly pulling the tangles apart, careful to not pull too hard. He gets the stubborn one she had gotten caught on and then easily works through the rest until his fingers run smoothly through her locks. He smells faint whiffs of her shampoo, lavender and something else, and his heartbeat knocks in double time as his movements slow down. “There you go,” he murmurs. “All smooth.”

Regina shivers noticeably when he tucks a strand behind her ear, fingertips ghosting along the shell unintentionally. “Thanks,” she says softly, staring up at him for a moment longer and then dropping her gaze to the floor.

Robin lets his hand fall away, down to his side. “I’m sorry for using magic on Piedmont,” he says, keeping his voice low, eyes on her face.

Regina shakes her head. “Now that I know all the facts, I don’t really blame you. Just… maybe go for disarming instead of stunning, next time? You could really get into a lot of trouble for that.”

“Noted,” he replies, wondering if her hair has always been so soft. He’s touched it before, sure, but he’s never run his fingers through it like that, never had the chance to really feel how soft and smooth and lovely it is. And it is lovely, just like everything else about her, he’s started to notice. It’s a wonder that-

A high-pitched scream fills the air, an ominous, terrified sound.

They both startle, pulling their wands out instinctively. There’s nothing in the corridor, but the screaming persists, getting louder and more hysterical.

“What  _ is  _ that?” Robin shouts, pushing his fingers in his ears just as the source of the screaming makes itself known.

The Fat Friar, the ghost of Hufflepuff House, suddenly comes barreling around the corner, soaring quickly above Robin’s and Regina’s heads as he continues to scream, the high noise almost comical now that they know the rather large man is the one making it. 

“Friar!” Regina yells, trying to get his attention to no avail. She tries again:  _ “Friar!” _

The ghost stops screaming long enough to look down at the two of them as he gasps for breath.

“What is the matter?” Regina asks sternly.

“Th-the boy,” he hyperventilates. “There’s a b-boy in the corridor. And he’s d-d-dead!”

Robin’s heart stops. He looks at Regina, both their eyes wide with fright.

_ Henry. _

They take off sprinting toward where the Friar had come from, turning down the next hallway, wands out and ready. It takes another turn of a corner and then they skid to a stop at the sight before them. 

Henry is, blessedly, thankfully, alive, but he looks like all the blood has drained out of his body as he stares in shock at the ground in front of him. He looks up at Robin and Regina, eyes as wide as saucers. “I… I…” he stammers, at a complete loss for words.

Robin doesn’t blame him.

Because at his feet, sprawled on the floor, is Hans Sutherland, still as a statue, skin a ghostly white, eyes open, but unseeing. Petrified.

Well, shit.


	13. Chapter 13

_ The sun glints brightly off the surface of the Black Lake, the water rippling in the slight April wind. It’s a bit chilly under the shade of the oak tree so Regina pulls her school sweater tighter around herself, jostling the papers resting against her propped knees. She frowns down at her own penmanship, frustrated that the words still make no sense. Magic Theory has never been her strongest subject, and for some stupid reason, she decided to take it again this year. Ugh, hopefully it won’t affect her OWL scores.  _

_ A light, feminine laugh dances across the lake and Regina cannot help but look up, immediately regretting her decision. On the other side of the lake under a different tree sit Daniel, Robin, Will, and… Tink. Apparently enjoying themselves immensely if Tink’s laugh and the way she’s touching Daniel’s shoulder are any indication. Irritation that has nothing to do with class rises under Regina’s skin and she glares at the girl across the lake, cursing her blonde hair and perfect smile and red robes.  _

_ “Whatcha studying, Mills?” _

_ A hand reaches out and yanks the notes off Regina’s lap. She looks up and scowls at James Nolan, grabbing for her papers only for him to hold them out of her reach. “Something an idiot like you wouldn’t understand,” she snaps. “Now give them back.” _

_ “I don’t know why you always waste your time reading shit like this,” James says, tossing her notes to the side in the grass. “You could be focusing on much more  _ interesting  _ things.” _

_ “Like you?” she guesses with a glare, leaning away as James sits forward, invading her personal space. _

_ “Exactly like me,” he answers with a grin, blonde hair sweeping across his forehead in a way that could be considered attractive. If she paid attention to things like that. “What do you say you and I find a quiet corner in the Common Room tonight? I can show you all the interesting things you’ve been missing out on.” _

_ He leans in closer and Regina pushes his shoulder, face scrunching up. “Get lost, Nolan. I have no interest in becoming one of your conquests.” _

_ “Come on, Mills,” he persists. “It’ll be fun. And when we’re done, class will be the last thing on your mind.” _

_ His hand reaches out for her waist, and Regina pushes him again. “Get off me,” she demands, hands firm on his shoulders as she shoves him away. _

_ “Oh, none of that now, come on-” _

_ “I said leave me alone-” _

_ “You’ll like it, I promise-” _

_ “I think the lady said no, mate.” _

_ Both James and Regina look up to see Daniel, Will, and Robin standing over them, arms crossed. For a split second, Regina is grateful, but then a blonde head of hair appears over Daniel’s shoulder, and anger replaces everything else. “I have this under control,” she grits out, turning her glare on her friends.  _

_ “Yeah, we have this under control,” James agrees, throwing an arm around her shoulders. “So you twats can leave us alone, thanks.” _

_ “Ugh, go fuck yourself,” Regina seethes, elbowing him in the ribs. “I wouldn’t touch you if you were the last sorry asshole on Earth.” _

_ A snicker comes from one of the other boys, and Regina whips around on them, the ferocity of her glare subduing their smiles. “I don’t need you idiots either, so you can get lost, too,” she snaps, getting to her feet. “Go back to whatever fun time you were having. It sounded like a blast.” She bends down and grabs her notes off the grass, brushing them off indignantly. _

_ “Regina, wait, come on, we just wanted to help,” Daniel pleads, putting his hand on her shoulder. His touch would normally calm her, but all she can see is Tink’s hand on his shoulder from a few minutes ago, and she smacks his hand away, whirling around with anger and frustration and hatred exploding in her eyes. _

_ “Don’t you touch me, you filthy mudblood!” _

_ Silence descends over the whole group, Regina’s deep breathes the only sound aside from the rustle of the wind. _

_ Daniel steps back as if she had physically pushed him, regarding her with a look of shock and hurt and disbelief. He shakes his head slowly, face hardening. “Fine,” he says coldly. “I won’t. Sorry for bothering you.” He spins on his heel then and stalks away, ignoring both Tink and Will calling after him. They follow soon after, and Regina can’t bare to watch, can’t stand to see the damage she’s just done, so she turns too and heads toward the castle.  _

_ “Regina!” _

_ “Fuck off, Robin,” she grumbles, not bothering to turn around. _

_ “Damn it, Regina, stop!” _

_ “I said fuck off!” she yells, spinning around on him, fury on her face. “I don’t have time to bother with blood traitors like you!” _

_ Robin gapes at her in disbelief. “What the fuck is wrong with you? This is not- this is not the Regina Mills I know.” _

_ Regina shakes her head. “Then I guess you never really knew me, did you?” _

_ Robin scoffs, eyeing her up and down. “You know what? Tell your mother well done. She finally got to you.” _

_ “This has nothing to do with my mother,” Regina hisses, glaring. _

_ Robin nods mockingly. “Right. Sure it doesn’t. Just like it has nothing to do with Tink, either.” _

_ He might as well have slapped her. She shakes her head again, the loudness of her anger suddenly shrinking into something quiet and deadly. “Fuck you,” she whispers. “And stay the hell away from me.” She turns and starts marching toward the castle. He might have called her name again, she’s not sure. All she can hear is the sound of her world crumbling to dust around her.  _

* * *

 

For a man running a school on the verge of a crisis, Merlin is very calm. Too calm. So calm that it makes Regina nervous. Antsy, jittery in a way that has nothing to do with Hans Sutherland’s pale, Petrified face. Merlin’s serious yet unperturbed demeanor makes Regina think he knows something that she doesn’t. Something important, and her stomach lurches at the thought. 

For every ounce of calm that Merlin exudes, Henry sends off ten times as much anxious energy. He’s fidgeting, shuffling his feet and twisting his hands as he sits in the far corner of Merlin’s office, staring absently out of the rain-soaked window, brow pinched tightly. His obvious discomfort makes Regina feel as if there’s another something she doesn’t know, something he’s not telling her, and her jaw clenches in frustration because she has  _ asked  _ him  _ so many times  _ if there was anything he wanted to tell her, and every time he said no, no, no, and now here they are, again, only now it’s not simply a cat that has been harmed.

It’s late now, past bedtime for students, and by the looks of the other Heads of House, they had been getting ready to turn in for the night as well. Belle’s long blue robe is tied tightly around her waist as she stands with her arms crossed, worrying her bottom lip between her teeth. Her hair is braided over one shoulder, not yet mussed by sleep or pillows. David stands beside her, hands on his hips, his dress trousers still on but his dress shirt gone, only a simple cotton short sleeve left. He was putting his pajamas on when the alarm was sent out. And then there’s Gold, still dressed in his black robes, no sign of bedtime or sleep anywhere on his person. While Belle’s and David’s faces are coated in concern, Gold looks quite content considering a student from his House has just been found Petrified.

“Have you alerted Sutherland’s parents?” Belle asks as Merlin paces slowly in front of his desk.

“I will send word first thing in the morning,” he answers without looking up. “Considering the weather, any owl we send out now won’t make it until then anyway.”

“This is horrible,” David frets, rubbing his forehead. “In all my years… Hogwarts has always been safe.”

“Hogwarts is still safe, David,” Merlin says calmly. “We just have a bit of a situation at the moment.”

“One that can be easily rectified, headmaster,” Gold chimes in, causing Regina’s defenses to immediately rise. Gold glances at her briefly, smugly while Belle and David wait for him to elaborate. “Remove the source of the problem.” He tilts his head in Henry’s direction. “We do have the culprit, after all.”

“Now, wait just a second,” Regina begins, doing her best to maintain a calm composure. How many times are they going to have this argument? “There is no proof that Mr. Colter-”

“No proof?” Gold scoffs with a shake of his head. “The proof is right in front of you. You’re just too bloody stubborn to see it.” He takes a step forward, hands clasped on top of his walking stick. “Colter was found at the scenes of  _ both  _ incidents, headmaster. If this were any other student, he or she would be on the Hogwarts Express home by now. The only reason Colter hasn’t been punished is because Professor Mills insists on protecting him. She didn’t take action when Colter attacked Mr. Grump’s cat and now one of  _ my  _ students has suffered the same fate. It is unprofessional and dangerous to allow her to continue to shield Colter from the consequences of his actions.”

“ _ What  _ actions?” Regina argues, hands flying to her hips. “You cannot prove that Henry is responsible for either incident and insisting that he be punished just because you don’t like him is far more unprofessional and dangerous than anything I have done. I am merely trying to protect Henry from your Machiavellian views on justice.”

“And if it had been another student found at both scenes?” Gold counters. “I sincerely doubt you’d be going to such lengths if, say, Piedmont was the student in question here.”

“I doubt I would either considering Piedmont is capable of doing such things,” Regina snaps, painfully aware that their argument is on the verge of becoming a schoolyard bickering.

“Oh, and Colter isn’t?”

“Of course he’s not.”

“And how can you be certain? He hasn’t exactly had the most stable upbringing.”

Blood surges to Regina’s face as her fury mounts, but before she can reply-

“Enough, Alastor,” Merlin sighs, sitting down in his chair. “If you two are quite finished, I would like to set about actually doing something to address our situation.”

Regina sends a final glare in Gold’s direction before exhaling deeply and straightening her shoulders. Dumbledore, she wishes Robin were here. She could use a bit of his calming presence. But he’s in the infirmary, seeing that Granny Lucas is made aware of Hans’ situation and checking up on Roland. He’s not a Head of House anyway, and this is a Heads-only meeting. Still, what she wouldn’t give for one of his smiles right about now.

“In the morning, you all must address your Houses individually and tell them what has happened. I do not want to incite mass panic by telling everyone in the Great Hall,” Merlin instructs. “Keep your reports simple, only tell the students what we know for certain, and make sure they know they are safe at Hogwarts still. The last thing we need is a flurry of frightened letters being sent out to parents.” He rubs his chin thoughtfully, eyes flickering toward Gold for a moment. “Under no circumstances are you to encourage or perpetuate rumors surrounding what’s happened. There will no doubt be an endless stream of questions, but you are to answer them with only the truth. If you don’t know an answer, say that we are working on it. Alastor, it might be wise if you find Mr. Sutherland’s friends tonight and tell them separately. I’m sure they will want to know first, and it’d be best if you stopped any rumors they might create in their tracks.”

“Of course,” Gold agrees with an air of confidence that makes Regina confident he will be doing no  rumor-squashing of any sort.

Merlin nods. “Very well. You three are dismissed. Regina, please stay a moment.”

As David and Belle head for the staircase, Gold pauses at Regina’s side. “Ironic, isn’t it?” he hisses. “That a Slytherin student was attacked by a Gryffindor and not the other way around? Of course, who can speak to the integrity of Gryffindor anymore?” He eyes her up and down. “Considering who’s in charge of them.”

An annoying, old thread of self-doubt winds its way up Regina’s spine as Gold continues past her and out the room. Nothing he just said is true, she reminds herself. Nothing at all. The current situation is not her fault, and it’s certainly not because she’s Head of Gryffindor House. That would be ridiculous. And it would be stupid for her to even contemplate believing it.

But Mother always did say she was stupid.

“Henry,” Merlin calls once the other professors are out of sight. 

Henry jolts to attention, spine straightening and shoulders squaring as his eyes snap forward from staring blankly out the window. “Yes, headmaster?”

“If you would join myself and Professor Mills, please? There’s something we must discuss.”

Henry stands from the bench and walks to the front of Merlin’s desk, meeting Regina’s eyes for a moment and then looking at the floor. His fingers fidget nervously at his sides.

“Henry, I must ask you this- did you have anything to do with what happened to Mr. Sutherland tonight?” Merlin asks, kind yet firm.

Henry shakes his head. “No, sir. I was walking to my dormitory to get Roland a pair of pajamas when I just…  _ found  _ Hans lying like that.”

“And you didn’t see anyone or anything else in the corridor?”

“No, sir. I didn’t run into anyone until I saw Hans. And then the Fat Friar came along, and then Professor Mills and Professor Locksley.”

Merlin nods and hums in curiosity. “You said you were on your way to your dormitory?”

“Yes, sir.”

“Explain to me then why you were in that particular corridor. Gryffindor Tower is in the opposite direction.”

Regina raises her eyebrows as Henry swallows. She hadn’t noticed that particular detail. 

“I… I…” Henry stammers, eyes wide. “I, uh, needed to ask Roland where he keeps his pajamas in our room. It’s late and I didn’t want to wake our other roommates by making a lot of noise rummaging around.”

It’s a lie, and a thin one at that. He’s hiding something, and it doesn’t sit well with Regina. He’s always been honest with her. Maybe not completely forthcoming, but if she asks him a direct question, he gives her a truthful answer. At least, he used to. Something made Henry go to that specific hallway tonight and whatever- or whoever- it was has him spooked. 

Merlin glances at Regina, understanding passing between them. He recognizes Henry’s lie, and he needs Regina to find out the truth. “Very well,” Merlin says, clearing his throat. “Professor Mills will continue to look into this and figure out what happened. In the meantime, however, I must warn you. This cannot happen again.” He pauses and looks at Henry pointedly. “I don’t believe you are responsible for what happened to Mr. Clark or Mr. Sutherland, but twice now you have been involved to some degree in both these incidents. If you were any other student, I would be pressed to enact some form of consequence until the matter has been cleared up.”

Henry stiffens at that, spine straightening at the threat of punishment. Too many major infractions, and he’ll be sent home to his horrid Muggle family. With the flying car incident already on his record for this year, he does not have much room left for further insubordination, and he knows it. Regina watches him carefully, frowning at his obvious dread at the mere thought of going back to Surrey early. She knows what it’s like to not want to leave Hogwarts for home, and she would not wish that anxiety on anyone. 

“However,” Merlin goes on, “Professor Mills has vouched heavily for your innocence, and I am inclined to believe her. At this point, I believe any disciplinary action on my part would be premature.”

Henry exhales heavily, shoulders dropping with relief.

“But this is your one and only warning, Henry,” Merlin says sternly. “Do  _ not  _ get caught up in any more mischief this year. The outcome for you would not be good. Do you understand?”

Henry nods vigorously. “Yes, sir, I understand. Thank you, sir.”

Merlin looks at him for another long moment and then leans back in his chair. “Very well. You are dismissed. Go straight to your dormitory, you hear?”

“Yes, sir. Absolutely, sir,” Henry replies, practically scurrying away in his haste to leave. “Good night, headmaster. Good night, Professor Mills.”

“Good night, Mr. Colter,” Regina says, watching him hurry toward the door. Once he is out of sight, down the staircase, Regina turns back to Merlin. “Should we be worried?” she asks. “Two Petrifications in two months. We can’t just brush this off.” 

Merlin doesn’t answer, his eyes focused on his desk, fingers steepled together. He’s silent for several long moments, and then, “Regina, I’m going to tell you something, and I need your word that you will not tell anyone else what I’m about to say.”

“Um, okay,” she answers, brow furrowed. “I won’t tell anyone.”

Merlin nods and folds his hands together, resting them on his desk. “After this attack on Mr. Sutherland, I’m afraid that I cannot keep the truth from you any longer. Last month, with the attack on Mr. Clark and the message on the wall, I had thought- or rather, I had  _ hoped-  _ that it was an isolated incident. That we were not dealing with anything serious. Now, however, I don’t believe that to be the case.”

“One of our students has been harmed. Of course it’s serious,” Regina says, her unease rising for reasons she cannot name.

“Yes, but I’m afraid… it’s much more serious than you think,” Merlin replies. He stands from his desk and crosses the short distance to the nearest wall of portraits, all depicting former headmasters and headmistresses of the school. They’re asleep now due to the late hour, ignorant to the way Merlin stares up at them studiously. “Hogwarts is old, Regina. So old that sometimes I cannot believe it’s still standing. It’s seen many things throughout its long history, and most of those things have been subjected to the effects of time. Things are forgotten, or misremembered, or exaggerated. And people like to dismiss the Chamber of Secrets as just that- a legend, a story embellished to scare First Years. But it’s not.”

Regina’s heart double-knocks. “Sir-”

“When a new headmaster or headmistress is chosen at Hogwarts, the predecessor reveals some very confidential, secret information. Information that is only known to the headmasters and mistresses of this school. When I became headmaster, I learned some very important things. Including that the Chamber of Secrets… ” Merlin trails off, sighing as he turns back around to face her. “Is real.”

Regina’s tongue feels heavy, leaden, stuck as she trips over words. “But… it’s not- I thought… how-” She closes her eyes, shakes her head. “What?” she finally settles on, mind whirring faster than a Snitch’s wings.

“The Chamber of Secrets is real,” Merlin repeats. “It is here, in the castle. It was created by Salazar Slytherin, just as the story goes. He protected it from outsiders so that only his true heir would be able to open it and use the weapon he stored inside to purge the school of muggleborn students.”

Regina tries to swallow, but her mouth has gone dry. This cannot be true. It  _ cannot  _ be true. “So you mean to tell me,” she ventures slowly, “that someone in this castle is the heir of Salazar Slytherin and that he or she has found and opened the Chamber of Secrets to unleash terror on muggleborns?”

Merlin nods solemnly. “It would appear so, yes.”

“And…” Regina trails off, taking a moment to clear her throat. “ _ Why  _ did you not tell me that the Chamber of Secrets is real sooner?”

Merlin sits back down at his desk. “I was hoping I wouldn’t have to. That this was not… what it is. But after tonight, there’s no point in denying it any longer. And you deserve to know. You should know. I can’t very well expect you to continue to investigate this without knowing the whole truth.”

Regina looks up at that. “Investigate? What more is there to investigate? Let’s just go to the Chamber of Secrets and stop whoever and whatever is behind this.”

“I wish it were that simple,” Merlin replies. “Unfortunately, no one knows where the Chamber of Secrets is located. That detail has not been passed down. All I know for certain is that the Chamber is  _ real,  _ and evidently, it has been opened once more.”

“Once more. It’s been opened before,” Regina surmises wearily, a headache brewing behind her eye. 

Merlin nods again, face growing grim. “Yes, when I was a professor here, several decades ago.”

“What happened then? Who opened it?” she asks, trying to remember ever hearing about something like that.

“That is unimportant,” Merlin answers vaguely. “A culprit was apprehended and the Ministry was satisfied. There’s nothing more to discuss.”

“But-”

Just then, the door swings open and Grump comes stomping through, face pinched in annoyance like always. “Sorry to bother ya, Headmaster,” he grumbles. “But Granny Lucas wants to talk with Professor Mills.”

“Of course, Leroy, we’re finished here anyway,” Merlin replies, making Regina raise her eyebrows.

“But, sir, I-”

“Have a good night, professor,” he dismisses, looking down at some papers on his desk with an air of finality.

Regina frowns as she turns to go, glancing back at Merlin as a million questions race through her mind. As she descends the stairs from his office, she has the unsettling feeling that she’s going to have to answer them herself.

* * *

 

“Do you know how much longer until the Mandrakes are full grown?” Robin asks Granny Lucas as he stands beside Hans Sutherland’s infirmary bed, studying the boy’s shocked, frozen expression.

“They won’t be ready for quite a bit,” Granny answers in her usual gruff tone as she mixes some kind of tonic together. “John said it won’t be until spring.”

“Spring,” Robin echoes wearily. “He’s going to be stuck like this until then?”

“I’m afraid so,” Granny sighs, shaking her head. “It’s a shame. Sutherland’s a bright boy, even if he gets caught in the wrong crowd from time to time.”

Robin hums noncommittally. From what he’s seen of Sutherland, he seems to be caught in the ‘wrong crowd’ more often than not. Still, he wouldn’t wish this on anyone, regardless of his opinion of them. “I didn’t know he was a halfblood,” Robin says, crossing his arms. “You wouldn’t know it from who he hangs out with.”

“You mean Peter Piedmont,” Granny guesses, wiping her hands on her apron. “Yes, that’s an odd pairing, I’ll tell you what. Most people are surprised Malcolm Piedmont allows his only son to be friends with anyone less than one hundred percent pureblood, but Hans here is a… special case.”

Robin looks up at that. “What kind of special case?”

Granny shakes her head and adjusts the blanket at the foot of Hans’s bed. “His mother is the Sutherland in him, not his father. He’s… illegitimate, you see. Raised by his muggle mother until he was five, I believe, and then his father found out about him. And you can imagine Eldric Wesselton’s anger when he learned he had a son being raised by a ‘filthy muggle.’”

Robin’s eyes widen. “Eldric Wesselton is Hans’s father?”

Granny nods solemnly. “ _ The _ Eldric Wesselton that tortured poor Helga Arens to death? One and the same. So you can see why Malcolm Piedmont is all too content with letting his son hang around with a halfblood. Because he might be a halfblood, but he’s a Wesselton all the same.”

Robin looks back down at Hans, trying to see any resemblance between him and one of the most notorious Death Eaters he’s ever faced. “Regina said his father works at the Ministry. I was under the impression that Wesselton was sent to Azkaban.”

Granny grunts, displeased. “Yes, he was. For about a week. Then he was released because he gave up some names to the Ministry. Geraint, Lamorak, Bedivere… mostly Arthur Pendragon’s lackies. Plus, he knew who to pay off.” Granny shakes her head. “His trial was a sham. But he got out. Found out about Hans, and took the boy away from his mother to raise him as a wizard. I don’t think he’s seen his mother since he started Hogwarts.”

Robin exhales and digs his fingers into his biceps. He doesn’t want to pity Hans, not after the way he’s treated Henry these past weeks, but after hearing all that, and seeing him like this, he can’t help but feel a bit bad. Or at least, a bit empathetic. He’s seen one too many people succumb to the circumstances of their upbringings. It’s a shame Hans couldn’t be protected from his. 

“Well. I’m sure his father won’t take this too well,” Robin says, thinking back to the many times he’s witnessed Wesselton’s temper.

“You can say that again,” Granny agrees as she picks up the cup of tonic she’d been mixing. “I’ll be conveniently on lunch break when he stops by.” She crosses the room to another occupied bed and shakes the sleeping figure kindly yet firmly. “Mr. Knight? It’s time for your next dose of tonic.”

Roland grumbles in his sleep and rolls over, eyes blinking wearily as he sits up.

“How’s the patient feeling?” Robin asks, coming to stand by the foot of the bed.

“Better,” Roland answers as he takes the cup from Granny. “I think the last of the slugs are gone.”

Robin chuckles. “Good. I hear you might even be well enough to make your 9 o’clock class in the morning.”

Roland wrinkles his nose. “On second thought, I still feel a little nauseous. Better give it twenty-four hours before I do anything too much.”

Granny shakes her head and points to the tonic. “You’ll be right as rain after a few more hours of sleep. Now drink up. I don’t have all night.”

Roland gulps down the drink obediently and grimaces as he swallows. “Blech. Still as gross as the first time.” He hands the glass back to Granny, his gaze sliding from her bespeckled face to something in the background, something that makes his brow furrow in confusion and then anger. “What’s  _ he  _ doing here?” he demands, pointing at the bed where Hans lay prone.

Oh, shit. Robin didn’t prepare for this. He didn’t prepare for having to tell Roland that the boy who was involved in calling his friend a mudblood and indirectly getting him in trouble has just been Petrified and that his other friend is one of the main suspects because he was found at the scene of the incident again. Because how exactly does one prepare for that?

“I’ll let you handle that one,” Granny says with a smile that conveys just how much she does not envy his position right now. 

“Thanks,” Robin mutters under his breath as she heads to her work room, leaving them alone. Robin glances at Hans and then turns back to Roland on an exhale, sitting down on the edge of his bed. “Roland… we need to talk. Something’s happened.”

Roland stops glaring at Hans across the room and looks up at Robin, eyes curious. “What? Is everything okay?”

He doesn’t want to lie to the boy, so he ignores his question, and continues, “Hans was… Petrified. Tonight.”

Roland’s eyes go wide, looking back over at the other boy in shock. “He- what? Like Grump’s cat was?” 

Robin nods solemnly. “Yes, like Grump’s cat. After Hans left Merlin’s office, he was headed back to his dormitory and was Petrified. We don’t know how, and we don’t know by who, but Professor Mills and I found him in the corridor.”

“Oh.” Roland looks down at his lap where his fingers fidget with the edge of his quilt. “Is he… going to be alright?”

“He will be, once Professor Little’s mandrakes are full grown,” Robin replies. “But that won’t be until the spring.”

“So… he’s going to be Petrified until then?” Roland asks a bit reluctantly.

“I’m afraid so,” Robin says with a nod.

Roland continues to stare down at his lap, confliction on his face. He’s quiet for a long while, and Robin can practically see the wheels turning in his head as he wrestles over something. “Professor Locksley?”

“Yes?”

“Is it… okay that I don’t feel bad for Hans right now?” Roland asks, looking up hesitantly. “I know I should, but I just… don’t.”

“No, I don’t imagine that you would, after the events of today,” Robin replies with a sympathetic smile. “And that’s okay. Maybe in a few days you’ll feel bad for him, and that’s okay. Or maybe you won’t, and that’s okay too. You’re not required to feel one way or another. How you feel is how you feel, and that’s perfectly alright.”

Roland nods seriously and looks over at Hans once more. “Does Henry know this happened?”

Robin sighs, wondering why he had to get stuck with telling Roland everything. “Yes, he does. Because when Professor Mills and I found Hans, we also found Henry standing beside him.”

Roland’s head snaps forward at that, eyes wide. “What? Henry was there?” At Robin’s nod, Roland shakes his head vehemently. “It wasn’t him, professor! I know it wasn’t! It couldn’t have been!”

“I know, I know,” Robin placates, raising a calming hand. “Professor Mills and I both know. And we’re not going to let Henry take the blame for something he didn’t do. We’re going to get to the bottom of this.”

“Promise?”

“Promise,” Robin assures him with a firm nod. “Now, get some sleep. Granny’s orders.”

Roland lays back down and pulls the quilt up to his chin. “Good night, professor,” he yawns, turning onto his side.

“Good night,” Robin murmurs as he stands, taking a moment to make sure Roland’s eyes are actually closed before heading for the door. Just as he reaches for the knob, however, it opens from the other side and Regina runs right into him with an  _ oof.  _

“Easy there, professor,” he chuckles quietly, gripping her arms to steady her. “Where’s the fire?”

“Sorry,” Regina says distractedly, shaking her head. She looks frazzled, a worry on her face that she tries hard to hide. “Grump said Granny needs to talk to me. Where is she?”

“In the back,” Robin answers, reaching out to stop her as she moves to hurry away. “Regina, what’s the matter? You look… frightened.”

“It’s nothing. I-”

“Regina, please,” Robin insists. “Talk to me. What happened?”

She sighs, shoulders deflating. She glances around the room, eyes stopping on Hans for several long moments before she looks up at Robin. “I need to tell you something. And you might want to sit down.”

* * *

 

Tuesday comes with a flourish of whispers, rumors, and gossip mixed with an increased sense of alarm. Gone is the sense of mystery and intrigue associated with the attack on Grump’s cat and the writing on the wall. In its place is a genuine air of concern as students realize that one of their own has actually fallen victim to the same fate. They’re not laughing anymore as they stare at Henry in passing. They’re glaring, eyes narrowed and suspicious as they go by, whispering vicious things to each other that Henry pretends not to hear.

But he does hear, and Regina does, too, as she stands in the hallway between classes. It’s infuriating, but there’s not much she can do about it. Her word alone isn’t going to stop people from placing the blame on Henry. Only answers will do that. Only the truth. And the truth of the matter that Merlin revealed to her last night has been weighing heavily on her shoulders.

The Chamber of Secrets is somewhere in the castle. And there is a student who has opened it with the intention of hurting muggleborns. All day, Regina’s been picking out the muggleborns and halfbloods in her classes, unable to stop herself from thinking who might be next. Ariel Shelley’s mother was a muggle before she died from cancer a few years ago. Aladdin Ali is a muggleborn, or at least, he assumes he is. His mother is a muggle, and he’s never met his father. Tiana Grenouille’s father is a muggle, a chef in downtown London, but her mother works as a seamstress at Madam Malkin’s in Diagon Alley. 

So many students at risk, it makes her stomach turn. Even more so when she remembers that she’s in charge of protecting them. 

Robin had been in just as much shock and disbelief as she had been when she told him the truth. In all his years of sneaking around Hogwarts as a boy, he never once came across anything that could have potentially been the Chamber of Secrets. And now they have the insurmountable task of finding it, hidden in a castle filled with mysteries and shadows.

So needless to say, when Regina is called to the Infirmary before lunch, she is not feeling patient or positive. Her frown has been obstinate all morning, resistant to any attempt to lighten her mood, including a mid-morning cup of coffee from Robin delivered to her room via Roland. At least he is up and feeling better. That’s the one good thing to happen today.

But even that modicum of positivity evaporates the second she walks into the Infirmary and sees Eldric Wesselton waiting for her by his son’s bedside.

“Ms. Mills,” he says coldly, eyeing her with disdain as she approaches.

“Eldric,” she returns in the same tone. There was no love lost between the Wesselton and Mills families after the fall of the Dark Lord. An old feud between Cora and Eldric has kept the two clans firmly on icy ground with each other, before, during, and after their shared allegiance to He Who Must Not Be Named. It doesn’t help that Eldric is one of the many Death Eaters who strongly resent Regina for her last minute renunciation of their dark purpose. “And it’s ‘Professor Mils,’ thank you.”

Wesselton’s eyes narrow, and even though he’s shorter than Regina, she cannot help but feel like he’s looking down at her. “Very well,  _ professor,”  _ he says, voice acidic. “I was told you are the one who can explain to me why my son is Petrified.” He gestures down at Hans’s still body, unmoved from the night prior. 

“Your son was discovered last night in a corridor by myself and another professor,” Regina states, ignoring her little white lie. “We were alerted to his condition by one of the castle’s ghosts. He was brought here and an investigation has begun.”

“And why has he not been cured yet?” Wesselton demands. “Have you not considered that he would be able to tell you what happened?”

“He hasn’t been cured yet because we are still working on the antidote,” Regina explains evenly despite her rising frustration. “Professor Little is-”

“Oh Dumbledore,  _ that  _ buffoon?” Wesselton bemoans. “My son will never be cured if he’s in charge.”

Regina bristles. “Professor Little is a very accomplished herbologist. He has received international recognition for his work with Shrivelfigs and Wiggentrees. To even suggest that he is incompetent is-”

“The truth is what it is,” Wesselton interrupts. “Tell me how an idiot like that man is going to do anything to help my son.”

“The cure for Petrification is Mandrake Restorative Draught,” Regina replies through clenched teeth. “Professor Little is growing Mandrakes, and when they are ready, we will brew the draught for your son.”

“And just how long is that going to take?”

“The Mandrakes are still very young. Professor Little’s best estimation is that they will be full grown by spring.”

“Spring?!” Wesselton shouts incredulously. “My son is going to be frozen until  _ spring?” _

Regina flinches at his sudden loudness, growing angrier at him for yelling and at herself for reacting to it. “Yes. If we brew the Restorative Draught before the Mandrakes are ready, it could have extremely harmful side effects.”

Wesselton’s nostrils flare as he stares down at his son, scowling. “I shouldn’t be surprised, what with the complete ineptitude of this bloody school. Merlin’s probably not even batting an eye while my son is laying here Petrified!”

Regina lifts her chin in defiance. “The headmaster is very concerned with the safety of our students. He has taken many steps to ensure-”

“He can’t be all that concerned if he left the likes of  _ you  _ in charge,” Wesselton snaps, eyeing her with disgust.

Regina’s spine snaps straight in indignation, defenses flying up with the speed of a Snitch. “I beg your pardon?” she demands, hand itching to reach for her wand. 

“A spineless man asking a spineless  _ traitor _ to oversee the wellbeing of Hogwarts students,” Wesselton sneers. “It’s despicable. And clearly, the wrong decision considering my son is lying here Petrified. Who knows how many more innocents will fall prey to the same fate while you stand around twiddling your thumbs?”

Regina’s eyes narrows as she grits her teeth. “Don’t act like you suddenly give a damn about the students who are most at risk here. If it wasn’t for your son, you wouldn’t give a Niffler’s ass about the muggleborns and halfbloods who are being threatened. You’d probably even  _ support  _ the purging efforts of whoever is behind this.”

“Careful, professor,” Wesselton warns lowly. “We don’t want to start throwing around accusations, now do we?”

“And just what is that supposed to mean?” Regina asks, crossing her arms.

“It means that not too long ago, you were spouting a very similar pureblood rhetoric,” he states, taking a step around his son’s bed, toward her. “Quite a coincidence, isn’t it?”

Regina stares, a second passing and then-

“You- you think  _ I  _ did this?” she stammers, shock hitting her square in the chest.

Wesselton shrugs innocently. “No one can say you haven’t partaken in such  _ purging  _ activities before. Maybe you got sick of being a filthy traitor and decided to pick up where the Dark Lord left off.”

Regina shakes her head. “No-”

“Picking off helpless students would be almost too easy for a witch of your skill,” Wesselton continues, taking another step forward.

“You’re wrong-”

“Pretending to be shocked and concerned, pulling Merlin along with your little charade.”

“That’s not-”

“And being put in charge of the investigation would be the perfect way to cover your tracks,” Wesselton accuses, standing right in front of her now. “If you hadn’t chosen to target my son, I might actually be impressed. Even your mother would be proud.”

Rage shoots to the top of Regina’s throat, leaving nothing but red in its wake. “I am  _ not  _ responsible for this, and I sure as hell didn’t touch your mudblood son!”

Charged silence fills the air as her words, as  _ that word  _ hovers and hangs, Wesselton’s face breaking into a slow, sadistic grin. 

Regina blinks, brow furrowing as she shakes her head. She didn’t… did she really just… oh, Daniel forgive her… “I-I didn’t… that’s not what I-”

“Not what? What you meant to say?” Wesselton goads, eyeing her with a sick look of satisfaction. “Then it’s unfortunate that that’s what you did say, professor, because you just called my son a blood slur.” He cocks his head to the side. “And I’m sure the headmaster is not going to be thrilled about that.”

He brushes past her in a confident stride, not bothering to give his son a parting glance as he exits the Infirmary.

Regina hardly registers him leaving, her own words ringing in her ears,  _ mocking  _ her and the red of her robes and the mark on her arm. She doesn’t want to believe it, doesn’t want to accept what she just did, but with every second that passes, her chest fills with a growing sense that she should have seen it coming all along.

* * *

 

For the third time in twenty-four hours, Regina stands before Merlin’s desk, waiting for him to speak. He’s studying her, staring at her unceasingly, and normally Regina would meet his gaze, but she can do nothing but stare at the floor. There’s a weight around her neck, pulling her shoulders down, keeping her eyes downcast, replaying  _ that word  _ over and over and  _ over  _ again. Her long sleeves are constricting, cutting into her wrists, daring her to show anyone the truth of what lies beneath, the truth of what she is, of who she is. Her forearm burns, blisters and stings under the fabric of her false red robes, reality fighting to finally defeat this masquerade of hers. 

She’s told Merlin before. She’s told him he was wrong about her, told him she didn’t deserve to be forgiven for her atrocities, but he convinced her to pretend anyway. It was just supposed to be pretend. But no one gets hurt playing pretend. This wasn’t just pretend, this was a lie. A dangerous, risky lie that has finally revealed itself in a most brutally honest way. Unbidden, unforced, the truth of herself spilling past her lips as easy as rain falls from the sky.

Fake. Lie. Pretend.

That’s all she’s done for over a decade. At least she doesn’t have to keep reminding people of the truth now.

Merlin sighs heavily as he sits back in his chair, eyes flicking away for a moment before focusing on Regina again. “I’m not happy, professor,” he says finally, firmly.

Regina nods, swallows around the lump in her throat. “I know.”

“You of all people know we have a zero tolerance policy when it comes to such language.”

She nods again. “I know.”

“And as much as I am loathe to act on the word of Eldric Wesselton, I’m afraid I have no choice.” He pauses, studies some more, gaze as piercing as ever. “You’re suspended. One week. No teaching or performing Head of House duties.”

Head of House. She swallows, forcing down bile. “Yes, sir.”

“I will appoint someone to cover your classes, and Ruby will oversee Gryffindor for the week. I want you to keep away from Hans Sutherland, Peter Piedmont, and Henry Colter until you’re reinstated.”

She glances up at the mention of Henry’s name, but seeing the set of Merlin’s jaw, she doesn’t argue. “Yes, sir.”

Merlin stares at her firmly for another moment, and then relaxes his shoulders. “Take some time, Regina. It’s been a stressful few weeks for you.”

Stress. She could almost laugh that he could chalk what happened today up to  _ stress.  _ As if it wasn’t her true nature simply coming out to play. Still, Regina nods, not having the energy or drive to argue anymore. “I will, sir. And… I’m sorry.”

Merlin exhales slowly, jaw clenching and unclenching. “I know you are. That’s why I know this will not happen again.”

Regina shakes her head. It won’t happen again. Because she’s going to see to it that it doesn’t. “It won’t, sir. I promise.”

“Good. Because I don’t want to think about what I’ll have to do if it does,” Merlin warns vaguely. “Now, get out of here. Suspension starts now.”

Regina turns and heads out of the office, clenching her fists to still her shaking hands. She needs to get out of here, out of this room, out of this castle, so she can breathe again. She’s nearly free, nearly at the bottom of Merlin’s staircase when she smacks right into- of fucking course. Robin.

“Hey,” he says sort of breathlessly, stepping down a stair so they’re eye level. He’s grinning, but his smile fades in a flash when he sees her face. “What’s wrong?”

And she cannot do this. Cannot look Robin in the eye and confess to what she’s just done. She can’t betray him again. Can’t let him down  _ again.  _ So she shakes her head and lies, “Nothing. Just had to deal with Eldric Wesselton, is all. You know how he is.”

Robin frowns. “Yeah, I do. What did he want?”

“Someone to blame for what happened to his son,” Regina answers because it’s not a lie, but it’s not the whole truth either, and she just- she can’t do this right now. She needs to leave. “Merlin’s in there if you need to talk to him,” she says, brushing past him down a few steps. She’s almost off the bottom stair when Robin’s hand wraps around her elbow.

“I don’t need to talk to Merlin, he said he needs to talk to me,” he explains, thumb rubbing absently against her bicep. “Any idea why?”

Oh, she has several ideas, but the main one is making her stomach twist into a knot, and she needs to get out of here, needs to just  _ leave- _

“Professor Locksley.”

They both look up to see Merlin standing at the top of the staircase, watching them carefully. “Come on up. There’s a few things we need to discuss.” He walks back into his office then, leaving them alone.

Robin looks back to Regina, eyes flickering over her face curiously. “Guess I shouldn’t keep him waiting. Are you sure everything’s okay? You look… I don’t know. Spooked.”

Regina nods, taking the final step down off the staircase, her arm falling free from his grasp. “Yeah, I’m fine. Stressed is all.”

He stares at her for several long moments, like he doesn’t believe her, but he acquieses and doesn’t call her on the lie. “Alright. I’ll see you at dinner?”

Another nod, but she can’t put voice to that lie, can’t break his trust one more time. Thankfully, he simply smiles at her, pleased, and then turns to climb the stairs, disappearing into Merlin’s office.

Regina waits one, two, three seconds, and then heads right for the front doors, forcing herself to not look back. She would crumble if she did. 


End file.
